Friends in Low Places
by Tomas the Betrayer
Summary: How well do you know your friends? Or your enemies? The two might be harder to distinguish than you believe. The ladies of One Piece experience separate encounters with scoundrels of the highest order.
1. Lend You a Hand?

"Move again and you'll be whipped," an ugly creature grunted at them all. No one spoke in response. They knew it was no idle threat, having experienced such punishments earlier. Lined up in three rows of five the prisoners knelt, bound hand and foot on the floor of the stage, their eyes darting warily about, unable even to speak to one another for fear of what would befall them as a result. The handlers watched them closely, alert to signs of dissent.

They especially kept their eyes on the dark-haired girl in the middle row.

Though initially put on prominent display owing to her beauty, this child had proven herself to be quite vicious when approached by any clients. One poor soul had attempted to stroke her glossy black hair, and had to be rushed to a hospital in the hopes of reattaching the fingers she had bitten off. No amount of threats or slaps could prevent her from responding violently, shocking their patrons. Only when they had turned to abusing her younger siblings did she consent to behave.

Now they deemed her worthy of extra security measures. The collars usually reserved only for adult specimens were attached to the girl's neck along with her sisters. The peril involved in attempting to remove one was explained, along with how they could be detonated by remote. In spite of this added precaution, the guards couldn't help but afford more of their attention to her than anyone else. And not entirely because of her startling beauty. Nor was it that the other captives were what one might call timid. They were pirates, after all, some of them rather notorious even in this part of the world. The guards simply recognized her as the most dangerous. But the girl was a treasure for certain collectors, a member of the Kuja female fighting tribe, spirited and fierce. The ones in charge of this auction knew a few customers in particular who would enjoy crushing such a soul, disabusing her of the notion that she was some kind of warrior princess.

For her part, Boa Hancock simply waited for her chance to escape.

The eldest of the Boa sisters, she had fought alongside her adult brethren when their pirate ship had been ambushed by Marines. Though a child in appearance, the women of Amazon Lily were instructed in combat from a young age. She and her two siblings had earned the right to pillage the seas along with their elders, a privilege afforded only the highest caliber of fighter. This had been only their third voyage together, and as it turned out, third time's the charm. A seemingly helpless merchant vessel had proven to be a ruse, luring them into the Navy's trap. These particular Marines proved to be of far superior fighting capability than those encountered in the past. Though losses had been heavy on both sides, in the end, the Kuja found themselves severely outnumbered.

A last-ditch attempt to make a break for freedom was foiled, and the valiant valkyries resolved to fight to the last woman. While just as devoted to this principle as the rest, the Boa sisters found themselves to be the targets not of swords or muskets, but nets fired from bazookas. While they struggled to free themselves, some of the vicious males had injected them with a type of paralyzing venom. Now helpless in the midst of battle, they were unable to resist when the sweaty brutes stuffed them into sacks. Forced to listen to the sound of their shipmates being slaughtered, Hancock could hear her big-hearted sister Sandersonia weeping, but was unable to comfort her.

When the conflict was finally over, the girls had been loaded onto one of the Navy ships along with all the treasure and provisions aboard their own vessel before that noble craft was sunk by cannon-fire. They had listened to one of the naval officers classify them as bags of potatoes, a lie that had made no sense at the time. Weren't they prisoners? Didn't men execute their captives? Only later that night, when the sounds of whispered communications came and they were carried, still drugged, onto what appeared to be another ship did it become clear. There was arguing about payment, and negotiations conducted in hushed tones. And before they knew it, the sisters had been sold into slavery.

Now they waited in a human auction house along with other prisoners, to be sold off like so much property. The ways of men were truly disgusting. Although weakness was not tolerated in Amazon Lily, those women who were physically inferior, while not afforded honors, were still permitted their lives and freedom. Only with the hirsute beasts of other islands could there be found such an abysmal concept as slavery. It was an affront to human decency, and more than anything, it made her despise the entire male species with all her heart.

The day had started with fifty prisoners on display. Now less than half that number remained. Whenever a customer had expressed interest in certain specimens, the ringleader of this operation, a garishly-dressed, frail-looking brute with wandering hands who answered to the title 'Disco' had rushed off into the wings, returning with either an affirmative or negative to their offers. Many of those who seemed to be marked as special stock now remained in this mass of huddled misery, including Hancock and her sisters Marigold and Sandersonia.

The reason for this selective treatment appeared to have just arrived.

Lumbering up onto the stage was a hideously bloated monster whose sex was impossible to determine. Its face was painted, possibly indicating womanhood, with fat red lips and outrageously long eyelashes that almost brushed the inside of the clear bubble that encased its head. There also seemed to be facial hair above its lip, though, so one couldn't be certain. The eyes in that white puffy face were small and mean, possessing an expression of disdain for everything they came across. While excessive body fat was not regarded among her people as a blemish (so long as it did not impede a warrior's strength, that is), in the case of this tub, there was no chance of mistaking it for any kind of fighter. The lumbering slug was swathed in a cream-colored diving suit of sorts that only added to its corpulent appearance, and it huffed and puffed in its efforts to approach them.

Five attendants came with it, all male, all armed. One of them appeared to be the spokesperson, wearing a black suit and carrying himself with stern aloofness, his shaggy brown hair and square-jawed features drawing oddly appreciative looks from some of the female slave-owners still milling about. It was he who approached the obsequious Disco and spoke.

"The sublime Lady Flutonia understands you have merchandise that might be of interest to her."

Beside him, the sublime Lady Flutonia appeared ready to keel over from a heart attack. A litter had carried her to the stage, but the journey up five steps and taking ten more to reach them appeared to have done the gargantuan glutton more harm than good. She was wheezing, and two of her guards adjusted dials on her suit, apparently regulating the air supply to aid her breathing. Hancock was incensed at being forced to kneel before such a slob, but for the sake of her sisters, she restrained herself.

"Yes, yes, good master Donpon," Disco gushed, sweating and ringing his hands. "A very good catch this week. I know your majestic mistress has been looking for a brace of females to brighten her household, and it's our belief that we have found the answer to her prayers!"

"I will be the judge of that," Donpon glowered back. "Her tastes are of the highest caliber, and not to be exposed to inferior goods."

"You won't be disappointed, I assure you." The head auctioneer's head twitched over to his right. He had been doing that quite a bit since the whale-woman beached herself, the little girl noted. Though his eyes were hidden behind those odd star-shaped implements, she was positive that he was looking at someone or something offstage. Not being permitted to turn her head, Hancock found that her peripheral vision could not reach that far. The focus of Disco's interest would have to remain a mystery.

"Here we are, now!" The pillagers had plodded over to stand before them. Boa Marigold the youngest was in the front, and Boa Sandersonia the middle child was seated to her left. Hancock was on her knees one row back, crouching in the space between them. The eldest of the three had been dreading what might happen next. Marigold appeared to be holding up well, but Sandersonia was trembling violently, having been prodded and poked by far more people who were intrigued by her oversized head and luxurious green hair. It wouldn't take much to cause her emotions to break loose, and then they would be sure to punish her.

"These two, and the black-haired one behind them," the slave-trader chirped. "Well, what do you think, good master? Exquisite, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmmm," the hulking ape grunted, looking down at them. His eyes lingered over the sisters, taking especial notice of Hancock. She thought that he would start with her, as so many others had, but instead the man turned his sights on her siblings. One hand came down and brushed against the aptly-named Marigold's shining hair. Hancock noted with satisfaction that the brave little warrior still did not whimper as some others had.

"Marvelous, isn't she? Skin of cream, hair like a beam of sunlight. And those eyes! Oh, how they do shimmer. Lady Flutonia's collection would surely be proud to contain such a superb specimen!"

"Superb, eh?" And something in Donpon's voice caused the jocular flesh-peddler to hesitate. Once more Disco's head jerked to one side, as if seeking backup. Before he could receive it, the spokesman for the lady stood up and leveled an accusing finger down at Sandersonia, who flinched and hiccupped. "And what about this one? Look at the size of that head! She's obviously deformed."

"A…a novelty!" Disco waved his arms, sweat staining the armpits of his coat. "A holy rarity of breeding found amongst the natives of Amazon Lily, born only thrice a generation on that tiny backwater isle!"

Total bunk, Hancock thought. Her sister's head size was neither unusual enough to warrant attention back home nor was it evident in any others. It simply was.

"The Lady has no interest in specimens with physical imperfections," Donpon drawled, clearly unimpressed. Behind him, the Lady seemed to be absorbed in swallowing small pellets that popped through a tube into her bubble, much in the manner of a goldfish gulping food in its bowl. "Your proposal from before mentioned an asking price of 13 million belli for the set. It would seem you overestimated your salesmanship." The blackguard pulled a wallet from his pocket and flipped through its contents. "But I'm feeling generous, so how about this? I'll give you 5 million for the other two, and however much I've got in my wallet for the third. With a head like that maybe she'll make a good nightstand."

Amused chuckles rose from the spectators hovering on the edge of this show. Hancock cast a venomous look in their direction, but a warning glare from one of the overseers prevented her from doing anything more.

"Sir, I, I mean no disrespect, but…" The ringmaster of this affair was looking very uncomfortable, and he couldn't seem to stop glancing off to the side of the stage. Hancock was certain now that there was someone over there whom Disco was afraid of, even more than this mockery of humanity that stood before them. "We specifically reserved these three for your attention, at your request. Offers were tendered before that far exceeded the one you just made. If I accepted such a proposal, my principal would be very displeased!"

"And how do you think we are feeling, little man?"

Donpon made the remark casually, but there was no mistaking it was meant as a threat. The other bodyguards straightened at attention, adjusting their prominent blades and firearms. All the same, Disco's panicked gaze seemed to be resting on the butterball woman, as if fearful of displeasing her more than these swaggering goons. He certainly did seem scared of a lot of people. This 'principal' of his was probably another voluptuous waste-bucket who had threatened to eat Disco if he didn't perform well today.

Hancock was focusing so much on the target of her hatred that she almost missed what happened next.

"You think that you can barter with me, you ignorant peasant? Right in my lady of Tenryūbito's face? And over _damaged goods?" _

Reaching down, Donpon grabbed a hank of Sandersonia's viridian hair and gave it a vicious yank. The girl screamed and struggled, tears pouring out of her eyes.

"LET GO OF HER, MAN-PIG!"

Now it seemed all eyes in the stadium were focused on Hancock. She bore their collective gazes without shame. Her own black eyes were locked with those of her sister's tormentor, letting him know with every breath she took what she wished to do to him.

Donpon raised an eyebrow, apparently picking up on those signals.

Then he took two steps forward and backhanded her across the cheek.

"SIR! Not the FACE!" Disco screamed.

Hancock lay off to one side. Her ears were ringing, and the pain was just starting to kick in. She heard Sandersonia and Marigold screaming her name, but bound as they were, they could not reach her. Their elder wanted to tell them she was all right. These weak beasts could never break her body or spirit.

The auctioneer was shouting, yelling at his henchmen to remove the crowd and take the remaining merchandise off the stage. They did so, until only the trio of children, their skinny overlord, and the yellow frog's party remained.

"Sir!" Disco was hopping in agitation. "You mustn't _damage _merchandise you haven't _paid_ for! Our business has rules regarding…!"

"I didn't damage merchandise," her assailant remarked, absently massaging the back of his hand. "I disciplined an unruly child." He then straightened the cuffs of his coat and said in bored tones, "I believe my lady has been forced to endure enough folly on this day. We will be taking our leave of you now, merchant. Your rudeness has been noted, and we will…"

"Hold."

A woman's tone came, high and piercing. All the men then turned and quickly bowed, as the golden dumpling waddled over to them. Her head didn't reach to Donpon's chin, even with the ugly curled hairdo, but he afforded her an obeisance that Hancock would have only given to the Empress of Amazon Lily. Berthing herself at her servant's right, she stared down at the girls, who were completely enveloped in the walrus woman's shadow.

"I believe I fancy this odd selection," Lady Flutonia twittered, porcine eyes twinkling inside her skull. "We have a beautiful and spirited soul in need of breaking, another who was obviously born to be punished, and a third who knows how to be obedient. My family and I would derive amusement from teaching them how to behave, I am certain." She flicked a gloved hand back at her vassal. "Donpon, make the necessary arrangements. No haggling, I've lingered in this den of riffraff long enough."

Disco had been craning his neck around to catch sight of something, but when the mention of payment came up, he quickly brought his attention back to her. "Oh, good lady, I am in awe of your sagacious splendor! Truly, the Tenryūbito are exalted among the peoples of the world for good reason!"

"Have a care how you speak to Her Greatness, insect," Donpon reproached him angrily with his words and eyes. "A Tenryūbito is not to be lumped in with the denizens of this world. They are holy, exalted, untouchable! You should be honored to even stand in the lady's presence!"

Then, as if to emphasize this, he reached up and clapped a hand firmly on Flutonia's shoulder.

From her position still on the floor, Hancock saw Disco's jaw drop, mouth hanging open. This exact same expression was mirrored in the faces of the four other bodyguards, whose eyes seemed to be bugging out of their heads. And surprisingly enough, Donpon too was wearing that look of flabbergasted astonishment.

What was wrong with them?

Slowly, Flutonia turned her head, waddles of fat rubbing against one another, until her eyes were resting on the fingers that continued to grip her suit.

Those eyes had gone dead with anger.

Suddenly the retainer jerked his hand away, clutching it to his chest with an expression that had metamorphosed into absolute terror.

"I didn't do that!" he whispered hoarsely. "My lady, I would never…! It wasn't me, I swear, something came over my arm and it just… reacted on its own! You must believe me, Lady Flutonia!"

The Lady Flutonia did not appear to be in any mood to listen to explanations. To her remaining attendants, she hissed softly, "Take his arm. Then take his tongue for lying to me."

The man's breath came out in a quivering warble. Swiftly his former associates rushed forward, two of them gripping his shoulders and forcing him to his knees. A third grasped the offending arm by the wrist and held it out horizontally, while the fourth drew a scimitar and raised it on high. Donpon didn't appear to have noticed any of this, his gaze was riveted upon his mistress.

During this proceeding, the Tenryūbito made her way over to where Disco stood transfixed by what had just happened. "Send the bill along with my new slaves. See to it they are delivered by this evening."

He opened his mouth to reply, and there came a horrific scream.

A few feet from where Hancock lay, a black sleeve fell with an arm still inside it.

That was the hand he used to strike me. She stared at it curiously. By this point Marigold and Sandersonia had managed to scoot over to her, and they huddled up against their older sister's body as if for warmth, not daring to speak.

The next scream was cut short, becoming a bloody gurgle.

Hancock raised her head a little. The Tenryūbito was returning to her litter. Two of the guards were dragging the limp body of Donpon after her. Disco was on his knees being violently sick, while several members of his staff rushed forward to help him.

"Bring buckets!" she heard the manager gasp, coughing. "Clean this mess up!"

They hastened to obey, and Disco hurriedly staggered off, apparently having completely forgotten about his precious merchandise.

Hancock went back to staring at the human arm lying in a pool of blood. Whatever the reason those creatures felt this had happened for, she knew the real one. It was because of what he did to us. To me. The gods have not abandoned us completely. This is a sign. We will find a way. My sisters and I will survive this, and return home again. Thank you, good spirits, for showing me you still care.

Lying with her head on the ground, the fearless girl noticed something odd then.

Donpon's arm. The blood was congealing in a pool around it, or lying in small splatters. But from her current position, she could see something that made no sense. Because from this angle she could swear that there were a few drops of blood just… hanging there. In midair. Like they were dangling off of something she couldn't see. And they looked to be in a line of some sorts. If I follow it with my eyes, it leads…

Turning her head, Hancock looked in the same direction where Disco had been peering so frantically earlier.

At first nothing stood out. There were boxes stacked up in the eaves on that side of the stage, and ropes used to manipulate the curtains. But after a minute, she noticed a form that was out of place.

Someone was sitting on one of those stacked crates, slumping against a larger box with their back to the stage, allowing only one side of their body to be visible to Hancock. She could make out a leg crooked up, wearing red pants that cut off at the knees to reveal shins that were long, thin, and covered with hair. They were wearing a pink jacket with huge feathery tufts at the cuffs and collar, and one hand was tapping out a rhythm on the upraised knee. The rest of this person, including their head, was completely out of her view.

Of a sudden, the fingers stopped moving. As she watched, that hand lifted up, giving a flick of the wrist.

And Sandersonia screamed.

"IT'S STILL ALIVE!"

Jerking herself to a sitting position, Boa Hancock turned to see the severed arm flopping and twitching, fingers spasmodically clutching, like it was trying to grip something. Of a sudden it came about and started crawling towards them by snapping back and forth at the elbow, fingers crawling to aid its pursuit.

Her sisters howled in terror, and without another thought Hancock leapt upright, cocked her leg back and booted the offensive appendage off the stage like a kitten.

"FUF-FUF-FUF-FUF-FUF-FUF-FUF!"

A man's laugh. It was a strange one, but she knew how they all sounded; sharp and cruel. Her head snapped around, in time to see the person (the _man!_) from before walking away backstage. He kept his hands in his pockets, and his gangly legs were bent in a peculiar bow-legged waddle that indicated he probably spent most of his days aboard a ship. His head was tucked down low, but even over the mane of pink feathers, she could detect blond hair sticking up.

As she stared furiously at the back of this wicked figure, his hand came out of its pocket and waved goodbye.

To her horror, Hancock found herself suddenly reaching up, placing her fingers to her lips and flicking them out, like she was blowing him a kiss.

"Nee-san!" Marigold gasped in astonishment as she clutched their traumatized sister. "What was that?"

The dark-eyed beauty returned the other girl's stare.

"I don't know!" she whispered.

**FIN.**


	2. Tattoos and Tradeoffs

The brawny proprietor seemed to have singled her out for closer inspection. Over his bushy moustache, dark brown eyes held a focused intensity that any veteran shoplifter would immediately recognize as the mark of experience, and seek their ill-gotten gains elsewhere in more trusting locales.

Nami disregarded him as she strolled through the racks. However keen his instincts might be, this time they were slightly off. While the thought had occurred to her, it had been consciously discarded, owing to the fact that she was flush with cash. The fact that it had been looted from a Shichibukai further served to assure her that no mere vendor had the power to intimidate her now.

I love being rich, the young pirate thought, and grinned merrily.

The shop she was currently in offered the latest and greatest in swimwear, specifically for the ladies. Her designated companion Chopper had taken one look at all the pictures of scantily-clad females adorning the walls, not to mention the living specimens giggling and sporting potential purchases, and high-tailed it out of there fast as his furry little legs could take him. Nami had expected as much and called out to the ship's doctor to meet her back there in half an hour. He had called her a bastard and agreed to do so. That was all the assurance she needed.

Nami picked out a two-piece swimsuit with swirling patterns of turquoise and lapis lazuli on a white background. The colors strongly reminded her of the ocean, even seeming to carry the tang of freedom in their depths. An odd motif considering their current port. This city of mangroves and bubbles had the appearance of a carnival on first impression, but once you docked, it didn't take long to notice that the fair had a seriously darker underbelly.

The Saobody Archipelago was one of the last remaining bastions for slavery in the world, all sanctioned and blessed by the authority of the World Government. This was done to curry favor with the so-called World Nobles, the Tenryūbito, as her crewmate Robin had explained to her. They had both been greatly troubled to observe what looked like an outdoor slave auction being held here in the business district. The sight of a fishman among the assorted human wares had caused Nami's stomach to churn further. While having lived for years under the dominion of a bloodthirsty mer-pirate, she harbored their race no misgivings. Apparently on this island, their species was treated as a form of beast, an attitude that she had gotten quite enough of from Arlong concerning her own people. She had no desire to parrot that monster's opinions in any way.

Thinking about her penniless past was something she had resolved to avoid for a few hours, and so the navigator of the Strawhat Pirates decided now would be a good time to sample the wares. With her selection in one hand, she made her way over to one of the dressing rooms that lined the walls.

About a minute later, Cat-Burglar Nami exited the stall now dressed rather more skimpily than usual. Her toned physique and pronounced chest caused heads to turn even in this crowd, and not just from the men. The redhead allowed herself a small smile as she moved over to an alcove where a full-length mirror covered over half the wall, allowing her to see what all the fuss was about.

Oh, yes. You are a sight, you wicked, wicked girl, she exulted gleefully.

Turning from side to side, Nami examined her body tucked into the swimsuit. She had wrapped a long-sleeved shirt loosely around her waist, the rest of her clothing now lying in a bundle at her feet. Her skin glowed a healthy color even under the artificial lighting. Gathering a hank of her shoulder-length hair, she pulled it up to see how she would look, and was quick to note how one man stumbled into a rack of clothes on account of not being able to take his eyes off her. The professional thief smirked on the inside, but gave no other indication of noticing. It didn't escape her attention that even the previously suspicious salesman had grown rather red-faced and was now staring stiffly ahead from behind the counter. Every now and then his gaze flickered over to her, and then away again just as fast.

I really should be charging them all for this.

Stretching up her arms, she examined how snugly the top fit around her breasts. With the varied blues, it actually did complement her skin, especially the personalized tattoo of similar hue on her left shoulder. If these people ogling her had any idea what that mark meant, they might experience a desire of a different color. Specifically, the color green. Nami was currently sporting a bounty of 16 million belli, almost equivalent to Arlong's from back in the day. Still, she wasn't that concerned. In addition to being a slaver's paradise, Saobody had a reputation as being a layover for pirates on their way into the last leg of the Grand Line. While bounty hunters did abound, she had learned to spot their ilk through the years. Out of habit, her eyes drifted over the shoppers reflected in the mirror. Nope. They were all pretty normal sorts. Average-looking, down to a tee. None of them had any particular air of menace about them, more like indolence and…

Ice.

Pale eyes locked with her own, and she shivered violently. For a while all the commotion of the busy shop seemed to drain away, leaving her in a cone of silence. Nami felt like she was being forced by her own instincts to focus in on only that one person.

In response, the man in the mirror smiled.

He was slouched in a sedan chair right at the entrance to the alcove she was in (mercy, did I walk right by him and not notice?). The thought made goose bumps come out on her exposed skin as she examined this darkling figure with the intensity of a mouse sighting a cat. The man was young, dressed casually in dark-stained jeans and a hoodie with the black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was a design on the front of his shirt, but in his slumped position she couldn't make it out clearly. Tattoos went up and down his forearms and even the backs of his hands; some kind of round sun-like motif, or maybe even a Jolly Roger, though the specific type didn't leap out at her. _Pirate_. The word flashed through her mind, and for just a moment Nami felt all her old fear and loathing of that profession coming back, regardless of it being her own now. But the Strawhat crew was a special sort, not in it for the same things that other more vicious scalliwags were known to prefer. This right here, though… this was the real deal. The sort of pirate that mothers told their children stories about to frighten them into behaving.

A casual observer might not have picked up on any particular peril at first glance. He seemed fairly tall but rather slim. Suntanned skin looked smooth and boasted no scars or signs of battle. Leaning forward with arms propped on his knees, a speckled white fur hat of northern design perched atop his head, the guy wasn't hurting anybody or behaving oddly. But beneath the brim of that cap was a face that let you know this impression could change in an instant, boasting prominent black sideburns and a neat goatee. Those deep-set eyes had dark rings under them, indicating either lack of sleep or simple bad character. He was still smiling. There was even less warmth in that smirk than in his gaze. For some strange reason, Nami thought that this person resembled her own captain Monkey D. Luffy, at least in terms of overall appearance. Slender. Short black hair. Funny-looking hat. But there was something distinctly menacing about this version. Something sly and by no means innocent. Like it was Luffy's antithesis. _Evil Luffy_, she considered briefly. He didn't appear to be armed in any way, but Nami prepared herself for battle all the same, foot casually scooting over to her clothes and the Clima-Tact hidden within.

Still engaged in a staring match with this dire threat, she almost missed when a bear walked by behind her. Her attention remained focused on the immediate threat of…

A bear.

On its hind legs. Wearing a diving suit. With a sword over its shoulder.

Eyes wide, Nami spun about and gaped. There was nothing to be seen now, but neither was there any doubt in her mind as to what she had witnessed in the reflection. Unfortunately, it didn't appear as if anybody else in the store had noticed something strange. They were all going about their business while still casting furtive glances in her direction.

Astounded, she turned now to the fellow sitting just a few paces away from her. He regarded her right back. Mouth hanging open, the scantily-clad beauty could hardly get the words out. But somehow she managed.

"Did… did a _bear _just walk by??"

The question sounded so utterly preposterous even to her. But the man didn't seem surprised by it. He glanced over to the side, then looked back at her.

"Yes."

His voice was low, and it made her shiver all over again. But there was something about the oddly mischievous way he grinned now, combined with the ridiculous situation she had just found herself in, that caused Nami's tempestuous temperament to switch from frightened to irritated in one second flat.

"Are you waiting on somebody in particular, or are you just a pervert looking for thrills?" she demanded crossly.

In response, he flicked out a hand in her direction. "I was admiring your ink."

Nami blinked, and one hand came up to cover the mark of her homeland. Had she been wrong? Was this a bounty hunter of some kind after all?

"Blue of that shade can only be found in East Blue," he continued in easy, conversational tones. "They make it from the flesh of a certain oyster that grows in those parts."

It was getting harder and harder to determine just how much peril she might be in. More than anything Nami wished right now for some substantial backup, and she cast her eyes over to the front door in the hopes of seeing Zoro or Sanji walking in. When Providence didn't favor her so obviously, she decided to play it smart.

"My uncle's a Marine Vice-Admiral. He took me through the Red Line a few years back. That's when I got this." It wouldn't do to reveal too much to this character.

"Oh." His face hadn't betrayed one flicker of alarm or disbelief at her story. "I thought maybe you were a pirate. It is something of a professional obligation for that bunch."

Even if it had been a flimsy attempt on its face, Nami didn't like having her lies be disregarded so casually, and so she shot back, "Is that what you are?"

In response, he held up his hands palms out and wiggled his fingers at her. There was even more body art than she had realized, something written across the knuckles of one hand, but she couldn't make it out, and he had lowered them before she had any further opportunities.

To try and shore up her position, the beach babe scoffed. "Well, they look like prison tats. But that could just mean you're a pickpocket into self-mutilation."

Something in the way his lips twisted at that last comment left Nami feeling infinitely more vulnerable than before. It hadn't escaped her attention that she was dressed only in a bikini with a potentially lethal adversary before her. To cover this distress, she quickly asked, "So, if you're not waiting for anyone, are you looking for something to wear for when you hit the beach?"

"I don't swim." And with that, he stood up.

The girl tensed, but otherwise didn't react. Her Clima-Tact was close at hand if worse came to worst, and there were quite a few people watching. If he tried anything violent, the Marines would be on this place like flies to honey. They were apparently quite quick to respond to disturbances in this area, as a concession to the Tenryūbito.

Dark Luffy, as she thought of him now, crossed over and stood smiling down at her. The symbol on his chest was a Jolly Roger, though with a smiley face and odd lines all around it. For her part, Nami didn't bother to cover up or otherwise respond to his presence. She stared defiantly up at him, fairly challenging this menace to make the first move. Even if she still didn't savor battle the way some of her masculine allies seemed to, the cool-headed cartographer had developed a somewhat stiffer backbone to fighting solo than she had enjoyed in the past. She had defeated her fair share of powerful opponents since entering the Grand Line, and wasn't about to let a little thing like creepy smiles and flat dead eyes intimidate her. Even if those eyes seemed to be flaying her down to the bone.

They studied one another for a while. And then, one tattooed hand came up to hover over her left shoulder.

"Mind if I touch it?"

The idea of this creep putting his hands on her body, much less a spot that held a great degree of sentiment for her personally, almost made her knee him in the groin right then and there. But the calm logical side of her brain pointed out that he hadn't done anything overly threatening. And so, Nami decided on her own typical course of action.

She gave him her craftiest smile in return. "Think you can afford to find out? Be my guest."

Her heart was beating double time in her chest, waiting to see if he would take the bait or not. But apparently Dark Luffy wasn't inclined to backing down or resisting temptation. And without another word, he laid his fingers on her tattoo.

For some reason she had expected his skin to be cold, but it was just as warm as any other person's. Though his touch was gentle as it explored the curves of the blue design, Nami could sense that there was more strength in them than might be apparent.

None of this made the experience any less discomforting. Every nerve ending in the young woman's body was screaming at her to jerk away from his touch. She couldn't shake free of the notion that there was something obscene in the way he fingered her tattoo, even if that was the only part of her that he was examining. She knew from experience that certain people didn't have to go very far to let you know how bad they could be. Strangely, there was almost a clinical aspect to his perusal, like how it felt when Chopper gave her an examination. For all his medical acumen, the little reindeer physician still tended to stammer every time he asked her to raise her shirt to let him place a stethoscope to her back and check her breathing.

But there was never anything indecent during one of Chopper's check-ups. At least from his end. She might have teased him a little, but Nami respected her crewmate greatly, and always followed his recommendations in terms of health.

Something tells me he would have strenuously objected to what I'm doing now.

The pirate's fur-capped head suddenly leaned down. Nami flinched slightly, but all he did was take a deep breath close to her arm, then come back up and exhale slowly, eyes closed.

"Smells like oranges."

His eyelids came up, and pale orbs trained on her. He looked pretty pleased with himself. Let's see how long that lasts.

"I'm going to check out a few of the sights before heading out," Dark Luffy drawled. "Do you want to accompany me?"

Nami smiled sweetly back. Then she reached up, gripped the wrist that still held her arm and gently disengaged it.

"I'm not here for sightseeing. I've got business to take care of, and I don't think it involves you."

He didn't appear perturbed at being shot down. That same playful smirk still decorated his features, and he reached for his pocket. "Can I at least pay for the swimsuit? You did say there was a price, and I like the thought of you walking around in it."

A slight bit of panic came up in her throat, and she quickly slapped his hand before it could reach that far. "No, thanks. I wouldn't want to think about you every time I wore it."

Dark Luffy then leaned closer, until his face was right up in hers. "I think you will anyway, lovely lady."

"Excuse me."

They both turned their heads. Standing over them was the manager of the store, his handlebar moustache bristling slightly, arms crossed over his impressive chest.

"Ma'am, is this person bothering you?"

Apparently his opinion of her had changed in the last five minutes. Or maybe it was just professional obligation. Either way, Nami wasn't about to spurn this offer. Adopting a teary-eyed look of feminine vulnerability, she bent to snatch up her belongings and clutch them to her chest. "Oh, thank you so much, sir! This man just started hassling me after I came out of the booth! Could you please ask him to leave me alone?" She caused her lip to tremble in a slight pout.

It had the desired effect. The burly shopkeeper directed a menacing glare down at her companion. "Sir, I'll have to ask you to exit my store."

Dark Luffy glanced up, seeming to consider this order. He turned back to Nami, who flashed him a quick triumphant look before reverting to her damsel-in-distress mask. His eyes crinkled in definite amusement.

"Maybe I'll see you in the New World."

With that, he reached up and doffed his hat to her. This close, she could make out a few of the letters on his knuckles. It looked to be 'D-E-T', but the last one escaped her attention as he moved away from them, strolling casually towards the door. The manager turned to follow him after giving Nami a comforting glance, to which she returned one that clearly said, 'My hero!'

She watched the two men depart. When they were both well enough away not to notice, she slipped into a nearby dressing room and dumped her possessions on a bench.

Nami then opened the black leather wallet she had been hiding beneath them and proceeded to examine its contents.

To her pleasure, there was a sizeable amount of cash to be had, something she had been able to tell just by feeling it. A quick glance told her there must be about 18,000 belli. Nothing to sneer at. The young cutpurse grinned to herself as she tucked the wad of bills down into her cleavage. Well, I did warn the guy that there would be a price for getting close to me. And he offered to pay for this suit anyway! He'd probably have bought me dinner too, so there won't be a problem with that either.

Further inspection turned up what looked to be a license of some kind. It had Dark Luffy's picture on it. He was still smiling, of course. The sight of those eyes gave her the creeps even now, and she swiftly stuffed the id back in after glancing at the name.

Trafalgar Law.

Nami brought the wallet up to tap against her chin thoughtfully.

From North Blue, huh? Hmmm.

Nah, never heard of him.

She yawned and stretched luxuriously then, feeling quite pleased with herself.

When her arms came down, Nami found herself holding a human head by its moustache.

It looked at her, and she looked right back.

Every head in the store turned as a frightful scream erupted from one of the fitting rooms. They watched as the woman from earlier came bursting out, falling to the floor and kicking violently at something that rolled into the open.

"WHAT THE HELL?! WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?!! DAMMIT, STOP KICKING MY HEAD, LADY! MOTHER OF MERCY, WHERE'S MY BODY?!!"

Several other patrons began to shriek, not just at the sight of a severed head shouting on the floor, but of a headless torso that previously belonged to the shopkeeper which was now flailing around blindly, knocking into displays and stumbling up against anyone and anything that didn't move out of its way.

Sauntering away from that display, Trafalgar Law handed back the nodachi sword to his subordinate Bepo while looking over his depleted wallet at the same time. He couldn't help but grin.

"She robbed me blind."

"Pardon, captain?" the white bear glanced at him curiously.

"Nothing."

Even through the din, he could still pick out the screams of one person in particular. It made his skin tingle in response, almost as good as the feeling of her flesh trying not to shrink away from him. Shame I never got to ask her name, he pondered thoughtfully.

"NAMI!"

From out of the crowd, what looked to be a reindeer wearing a hat came charging, its back loaded down with boxes tied on. The blue-nosed beast went racing by them, and Law turned to watch it go.

Then it stopped.

Tony-Tony Chopper looked over his shoulder. Behind him there stood a lanky youth in a white fur cap next to a bear holding a sword. He couldn't explain why, but when he looked into the eyes of that man, the reindeer-boy felt a disturbing premonition come over him.

Of a sudden the sound of Nami's panicked screaming brought him back to the present. Turning away, Chopper dashed into the store, reverting into his goliath-form in the process. The great shaggy sasquatch passed a man slumped on the floor, patting his neck and tugging his moustache in perplexity. Soon he came upon his crewmate, who was sitting huddled up shivering with her back pressed to a wall.

"Nami?" the anxious paramedic whispered as he knelt beside her, noting the signs of trauma already evident. "Nami, I'm here! What happened?"

His hand came up to touch her shoulder, and she jerked away from him. Unsure of what to do, the adolescent doctor watched his friend anxiously. He looked about, but no one seemed willing to try and explain what had happened here.

Just then, Nami brought her head up out of her arms. For the first time since he had known her, she actually looked like a teenage girl, one who had been frightened half to death.

"Nami?"

She lunged forward and hugged him then, burying her head into his broad chest and crying hysterically. Taken aback, Chopper finally settled on putting his arms around her, giving the weeping woman what comfort he could in this inexplicable situation. At seeing the extent of his teammate's distress, he vowed to himself right there that if he ever got his hands on the person responsible for this, he would make them pay.

Elsewhere, the Dark Doctor Trafalgar Law suddenly threw back his head and laughed. When his furry first-mate cast him another inquiring look, he shrugged and gave a delighted chuckle.

"No worries, Bepo. I think I just met my nemesis, is all."

_FIN._


	3. Along Came a Spider

Jacques Baucus, the Drunken Pirate, threw open the doors of the distillery and stepped out into the bracing twilight air. Behind him lay the prone figures of men who had believed themselves a match for the scurrilous seafarer, either in terms of strength or drinking capacity. As usual, he had proven the error of their ways. Not for nothing was the captain of the Bourbon Pirates sporting a bounty of over a quarter of a million belli. You didn't get that sort of cheddar attached to you for knocking over candy stores, Jacques thought gleefully.

Pacing along the docks of this crazy little port in East Blue, the fearsome pirate hummed a melody to himself. Despite having quaffed enough alcohol to render most men comatose and hooked up to life support systems, his confident swagger was as straight and true as a sober scholar's. At only 23 years of age, he had risen to command his own crew of reckless scallywags, all of them as devoted to the bottle as himself. After proving themselves in battle against four other pirate ships and two Marine vessels, the Bourbon Pirates were heading in the direction of Loguetown and the marvelous adventures that must surely await them there. The door to the Grand Line was a gathering place for any man willing to test his mettle on that most arduous of seas, and his merry band had been thrilled to learn of their leader's intention to risk all their inebriated hides on such a quest.

"Spare change, son?"

A scruffy old beggar spoke from his position slumped along the quay. Jacques spared the indigent only a contemptuous glance in passing, tugging up the collar of his black suede cape. There certainly were a lot of homeless people in this town. Even pirates found themselves accosted by the rabble when coming into port.

His crew had gone to commandeer supplies and pick up any information they could. Supposedly this port of Cūncan had something of a reputation. In addition to being a hotspot for vacationing students, it was widely known that the Marines here boasted an amazingly high capture rate in terms of bounties. Jacques had felt it would be a good parting shot to East Blue for them to court that danger prior to abandoning these waters. Just to let everyone know that he and his mates didn't respect any sort of law save for that of the Jolly Roger. Plunder and battle; that was the name of the game.

"Mister, care to buy some flowers?"

This time it was a waif of a girl, holding her bouquets out with what she no doubt believed to be a beseeching expression. The aspiring legend paid her no more mind than the twenty other earnest cherubs he had seen since this afternoon. It wasn't his style to go out of his way for anyone who couldn't offer him a stiff drink or a rousing night of passion. He passed on, and the flower girl went back to waiting for her next potential sucker.

The brouhaha at the last bar hadn't served to bring the local gendarmes in what Jacques considered a suitable hurry, so he had decided to hit several of the establishments and see if they could play catch-up. Say what you would about this tourist trap, it certainly boasted an inordinately high number of drinking establishments. A little more in the way of action and a man might call this place ho…

"Want to buy a painting, Jacques?"

The sound of his name made him turn his head, and he saw…

Colors.

Vivid emeralds and dark forest greens swirling around a canvas, the whirlpool of rich intoxicating hues laced with a magnificent gold that was more enticing than any doubloon or piece-of-eight he had ever let fall from between his fingers. Reaching out to grasp the cloth-wrapped board, Baucus felt himself absolutely enamored by this blend of exotic hues. It was like the hypnotic dance that sometimes occurred when making a mixed drink, watching all those different liquors twisting and spiraling in the clear container, their alcoholic potency enhanced to an unhealthy degree. The rich amber of rum, the tantalizing viridian of midori. There could be no more absolutely breathtaking sight than this, and the awestruck outlaw struggled to find the right words to describe it. Something like…

"_Emerald Avarice."_

Yeah. That was it. Hit the nail right on the head.

Dumbstruck by art, Jacques hardly noticed when something wet touched his hand. At that moment, he was suddenly filled with the most splendid and empty-headed friendliness. As if on cue, someone spoke a command to him then.

"Go straight to the local Marine HQ and turn yourself in. Don't forget to tell them to put the reward in my account. The number is 231894." There then came a crunching sound, like someone biting into a pretzel. "Cooperate with the Marines. That's all. You can go now."

The Drunken Pirate proceeded to do exactly as he had been told. His dream of grand adventure on the high seas came to an end that day. The Marines made sure not to smudge the brown symbol painted on his hand. Acting according to instructions, Jacques Baucus cooperated with the local law enforcement to lay a trap for his own men, and one week later he was hanged along with the rest of the Bourbon Pirates.

The Marines of Cūncan sent the fund for his capture to their mysterious benefactor. In this way, their arrest rate continued to far outstrip most of the military posts in that area, though their superiors could not for the life of them understand how a bunch of lackluster soldiers could fare so well against all these pirates.

* * *

The young girl hunkered down by the docks was an artist, as anyone could tell by the way she dressed, in addition to the numerous paintings for sale that lay strewn about her ratty blanket. Her name was Penny, and in spite of being one of the most successful bounty hunters in all of East Blue, she was flat broke.

Her stomach gave a mighty growl. Roused from her nap under the warm tropical sun, the spindly tyke reached out blindly to where she knew her food supply was located. Picking out a rice cracker, she ate it in three bites and then peacefully tucked her head back into her upraised knees.

It wasn't that Penny hadn't been raised well. But she had a dream, was all. That dream was to become a world-renowned artist. It had started out promising enough, with people in her hometown acclaiming her talent and offering advice on how she should go about promoting it. The first step was to go to art school, they told her. Everyone had been very insistent on that. Unfortunately, they hadn't been so free with advice on how she was expected to pay for those schools. Even the meanest, dirtiest, cheapest artistic institutions charged exorbitant fees just for submitting an application. Her parents had lent their daughter 15,000 belli that more than covered the cost to apply at a decent college. They had thought she was bound to get in and would be able to pay them back soon enough.

Penny didn't get in. True, her grades at school were nothing spectacular, probably because she couldn't manage to keep herself awake for anything besides arts and crafts. However, the reason given was that she lacked extracurricular activities other candidates abounded with, like serving soup at homeless shelters and running in marathons to raise money for worthy causes. Penny didn't quite understand this. After all, she wasn't going to college in order to wind up serving people in a restaurant, and her own sedate disposition had never won high marks in gym class. She just wanted to be an artist. It was the only thing that interested her. She resolved to use her remaining funds to book passage to a more populated island where she could sell her paintings and raise enough money to try again.

As luck would have it, the ship she was on ran into some trouble at sea. Particularly, pirates. The bloodthirsty riffraff had swarmed aboard under cover of fog and proceeded to overwhelm the small contingent of soldiers. They then rounded up the passengers and went about robbing them. Penny hadn't been impressed by the idea of losing all her remaining funds. And so, she woke up just long enough to utilize her particular gift to turn all the invaders against one another, precipitating a slaughter awash in the colors of Betrayal Black and Bull's-eye Red.

No one else aboard could explain precisely what had happened, and Penny was fast asleep by the time a Marine escort arrived in answer to their distress call. She arrived at her new home of Cūncan without further incident. There she learned that the life of a struggling artist was not an easy one. Galleries demanded unreasonable sums to showcase your work, and the party-hardy students who besieged this port several times a year harbored designs on her that had nothing to do with purchasing art. Her talents kept her safe and unmolested, but money was still an issue.

The idea came to her while she was down by the pier examining some of the colorful bounty pictures posted near her unofficial exhibition spot. A scuffle broke out between several Marines and a handful of pirates close by. The lawmen were severely trounced, and watching this reminded Penny of her experience before reaching this island. That combined with the sums listed on the wanted posters started her thinking. Making up her mind, the mystic craftswoman decided that she would supplement her nonexistent income by defeating pirates. With her small stringy frame, red-amber pigtails and slightly spaced-out demeanor, it never occurred to her that she might not exactly fit the bill of what people imagined when they thought 'bounty hunter'. But it wouldn't have mattered either way. She had already seen for herself that it could be done, and in no time at all, the town of Cūncan had itself a guardian angel.

A penniless angel.

Capturing her targets wasn't the problem. Penny had a near-perfect memory when it came to faces, and apparently none of them expected a girl her size to constitute a threat. She had a system worked out that didn't require her to exert herself much, and the bounties kept sailing in and tying their ships up for her. But it was still just a side job. And a pretty boring one at that. Nothing like creating masterpieces. Her dream remained alive, and the vast majority of those funds received went towards it. Renting galleries in museums and exhibition studios, sending in applications to every competition and art school she could find, purchasing quality materials to mix her paints: all these things cost money. A _lot _of money. And while the World Government was generous with its rewards, it seemed like it was never enough. Plus all this business of tailing folks was cutting into her free time, not to mention being very tiring. On more than one occasion she had simply given up on a promising bounty because she couldn't keep up with them. No problem, but it wasn't like major pirate figures tended to pass by here every day. Penny recalled how disappointed she had been to learn that she had slept through a visit by Shanks, captain of the Red-Haired Pirates and one of the Yonkou. If she could have caught him, then all her troubles would be…

A shadow passed over her. Blinking, Penny glanced up from beneath her pink sun-bonnet.

The sight of a tall figure in a red duster and black cowboy hat made her rub her eyes in disbelief.

Reaching under one of her paintings, she retrieved a small stack of arrest notices. These were the ones that sported some of the highest figures in the world, and Penny had wanted to be certain she didn't forget them. Thumbing quickly through, she finally picked out the one that confirmed what her memory told her.

Staring out of that picture was the face of a child younger than herself. It was a twenty-year old photograph, but the resemblance couldn't be ignored. And the bounty…

79 _million_ belli.

Wasting no more time, the bounty hunter picked up her satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She put up her 'Closed' sign, and proceeded to follow her target.

The quarry wasn't in any hurry apparently, which was a big relief, because the difference in their strides meant Penny had to jog just to keep up with her. She didn't try to hide herself when in pursuit, because it took too much energy and usually wound up costing sight of her target. That wasn't going to happen here. The price on that head was too big to ignore. She could buy her own museum with that much money. Then she could make a fortune selling her paintings, go to college, become a great artist, get world-famous, make a fortune, and pay her parents back.

The red ghost she was following had slipped into a crowd of rowdy tourists. It was Golden Week, so the streets were packed, even at this time of day. Penny had to push her way through the throngs, and the press combined with her short height caused her to lose sight of that figure. Slipping adroitly into the open, she peered about for a sign to guide her.

A black hat bobbing along caused her worries to dissipate. It was only for a moment, but that was enough to see the criminal moving into an alleyway. The determined tracker shuffled along, escaping the mob and following that same route. Though winded from all this hustling about, she did not want to regret missing another fabulous prize, and so soldiered on.

Several twists and turns later, and Penny was seriously beginning to wonder if this had been a good idea. But at last her target seemed to have arrived wherever she was going, evidenced by the tall woman opening a door and entering a building down the lane. Grateful that the chase was at last over, her pursuer hopped the rest of the way on aching feet. The door proved to be unlocked. Opening it a crack, she peeked inside, just in case of surprises. When nothing presented itself, she proceeded to enter.

As the portal closed behind her, the amiable artist reached into her bag and produced her easel and brush. A short corridor stretched before her, and as she walked along it, she quickly applied several paints to the wooden board. No telling what a person like this was capable of. After a few seconds, she came out into a high-ceilinged chamber stacked with what appeared to be rolled carpets. The lighting in this storehouse was poor, and she couldn't tell if her bounty-head was anywhere about. Somewhat crestfallen at the thought that she might have to continue the chase, Penny stepped deeper into the room.

The sound of a crashing noise caused her to jump. Glancing back, Penny found that the way she had entered through was now sealed by a stone slab. At the same time this happened, several of the carpets around her began to jerk and twitch, and with brazen roars, they proceeded to burst open, revealing over a dozen powerfully built men. All carried weapons ranging from pistols to cutlasses, and were more than willing to use them by the looks on their grinning faces.

"What, are you kidding me?!" one of them exclaimed. "_This_ is the feared Shadow Hunter of Cūncan?"

"There's gotta be some mistake," another stated uncertainly. "She's just a kid!"

"You want to be the one to tell Miss All-Sunday she was wrong?" A particularly scarred and ugly brute hefted his gleaming axe.

Some of the assailants began to close in around her then. "You don't get anywhere in the Works by second-guessing the higher-ups," a man with a scythe in either hand pronounced. "Let's just test her a bit. If she faints after the first little cut, we'll know there's no threat."

Apparently this proposal met with the approval of his colleagues, and they all moved to surround her.

For her part, Penny didn't really like this set-up one bit. And so, dabbing her horsehair weapon into the medium on her easel, she set to work getting out of it. Applying a quick sketch beneath her, she then turned and raced back the way she came.

"GET HER!" someone laughed, and the first ring of fighters lunged forth with weapons at the ready.

To their surprise, they found themselves stabbing swords and firing bullets not at the girl, but into the red symbol she had drawn onto the floor.

Ducking beneath one man's legs, the emotive artist then set to work. While the rest of them were still gaping in perplexity, she turned back to the ones still immobilized by her Color Trap and mixed a new paint. "_Hilarious Yellow."_

Three of the henchmen then collapsed on their backs, howling and screaming with laughter.

"_Lugubrious Blue."_ Two more slumped weeping with tears streaming down their faces. _"Absurd Orange." _One fellow pulled down his pants and went hopping about, flapping his arms and honking like a goose, while three more linked elbows and began to perform a can-can together, singing nursery rhymes at the same time. "Little Miss Muffet/ Sat on a tuffet/ Eating her curds and whey…!"

How many does that leave?

"She's a witch!" someone shrieked.

"KILL HER!"

Several more red targets painted on any available surface, ranging from carpets to peoples' bodies, caused all their shots to go wide. When Penny came up to ascertain her position, the foaming brute with the axe rose behind her, intending to cleave the girl in twain. Instead he felt a tickling below his ribs, and then proceeded to sit and calmly begin braiding his own greasy hair, completely sedated thanks to the green mark on his midsection.

She decided to get more creative then.

"_Pink Perversion."_

"LEGGO OF ME, YOU FREAK! QUIT LICKING MY EAR!"

"_Refined Lavender."_

"I will not suffer to work with such odious underlings, I shall take my leave of you, gentlemen."

"_Chalk White."_

"S-s-s-s-scared…! Help m-m-m-meeeeee!"

"_Scarlet Fever."_

"I am enflamed with the fires of revolt! Rise and cast off your servitude, comrades! Join the revolution that will bring us all into a fraternity of communal brotherhood!"

The last of them she finished off with a smattering of Betrayal Black and Despondent Gray. When there were no more obstacles to her progress, Penny then made her way over to a door she had noticed tucked into a corner of the room. Leaving the gaggle of goons behind, she proceeded after her original target.

A short flight of stairs led upwards, and upon reaching the top she found herself standing in a long narrow attic. At the end of this space a single window allowed vibrant sunshine to pour in, leaving most of the room in shadow by comparison. There were chests and boxes scattered all around, and she sighed wearily at the thought of more attackers who would no doubt pop up from those concealing vessels. In anticipation of this, she dabbed some red and green onto her brush and prepared to set her first trap.

"You defeated the Billions. Good for you."

"_Buddy Brown."_

The circle of paint went soaring towards the spot where that voice had come from. It connected with nothing more notable than a wall.

"What an unusual ability you have. It explains so much about your work."

This last comment came from the opposite side of the room as before. Penny peered about a trifle uncertainly now. How did she get over there so fast? I didn't see her move. Maybe she's a ventriloquist. I'd better hurry before she decides to get serious. A few seconds later, the rosy-cheeked Rembrandt had slapped charms for _Emerald Avarice _and _Bull's-eye Red_ all around her. She then hurried to hide behind one of the crates, peeping over the edge while waiting for the spells to take effect.

There was still no sign of the criminal.

Once again, Penny found herself wondering if she might have gotten in over her head this time. In preparation, she began to blend a truly devastating pigment, _Purple Passion_.

"I think we've played together enough, though."

A sharp smack to her hand sent the easel flying into the air. Penny gave a yelp and immediately tried to grab it, only to find herself unable to move her feet. As she looked down to see what might be restraining her, strong fingers clamped down on her wrist, causing her to drop her brush.

My Color Traps! How did she get past them?! Why couldn't I…?!

"There, now. Much better."

The woman's voice came from right at her ear. When the auburn-haired pixie turned that way, she at first saw nothing more alarming than a box. But on further consideration, there was something a little unusual to be found there.

Namely, that box was sporting a human mouth. And over this was a pair of deep blue eyes staring right back at her.

Penny opened her own mouth wide to scream, only to be balked by another hand clamped around her jaw. This one was attached to an arm that seemed to be attached to… another arm, which in turn was growing out of the wall.

Terrified beyond anything she had ever known, the girl could only watch as yet another slender appendage emerged from the box before her, to gently wag an admonishing finger in her face. When she managed a trembling nod in understanding, all three of these limbs vanished into what appeared to be flower petals.

"Up we go, little one."

The grip on her feet released at the same time something gave a jerk on the back of her shirt collar. Before she could try to craft an explanation for any of this, Penny found herself hoisted off the ground and pulled up towards the ceiling so fast her hat nearly fell off.

There she came face-to-face with something that made her start to cry like a little baby.

Spread above her was an enormous web. This system was made not of spider-silk, but an interlocking series of human arms. At the center of this nightmarish snare, held protectively in its embrace, was the so-called Demon Child, Nico Robin. Like a hungry black widow, right down to the color scheme, she hung parallel to the floor. But when Penny came up to her level, and the woman's head turned to regard her, she found that her enemy's eyes were closed.

The internationally-wanted assassin smiled at her sniffling catch. "Don't be frightened, _Imouto-chan_. I wasn't planning to eat you. Now, why don't you start by telling me your name?"

Penny flinched and hiccupped in response.

Robin then pulled a handkerchief from her coat and extended it out several arm's-length to dab at the weeping child's cheeks. It smelled faintly of flowers, and this combined with the oddly compassionate act caused the girl to get a hold of herself sufficiently to answer the question.

"P… Penny."

Still keeping her eyes closed, the Devil Fruit user seemed to ponder this. "Well, seeing as you followed me here, you must already know my name. But what I really sought you out for was to talk about our identities. I've heard you described as the 'Shadow Hunter of Cūncan', and about five minutes ago, you heard me described as 'Miss All-Sunday'. Neither of us would care to have these identities exposed to the world, so we have that much in common, Shadow-chan."

Unfortunately Penny chose this time to look behind her to see what was keeping her dangling in the air like a worm on a hook. When she found it was yet another arm, for some reason this caused her to start crying again. Her stomach was growling, her eyes were burning, and she wished terribly she could go to sleep and wake up to find this was all over.

Nico Robin considered her for a while.

Then she said, "Would you like to get some lunch?"

* * *

"Another miso donburi bowl for my guest, please."

"Of course, madam."

The waiter bowed, and Robin went back to watching as the diminutive diner before her inhaled her third serving. Apparently the whole 'starving artist' bit wasn't just for cover. She hadn't known what to expect when Mr. 0 had assigned her to locate the mysterious bounty hunter of this island, but it certainly wasn't this odd little creature in mismatched clothes before her.

Not even her current partner's connections in the Marines seemed to know anything about the so-called 'Shadow Hunter', so eventually she had decided to simply show her face about town and see who came calling. Thanks to the Hana-Hana no Mi, she had been able to notice if someone was following her without giving anything away. At first Robin assumed that the colorfully-dressed girl trailing in her wake was one of the Hunter's informants. But when the kid entered the building herself, it finally dawned upon the crime boss that this might be the real deal. She had used her powers to watch the attack of the Billions, prepared to intervene if it became clear that her suspicions held no weight. Only after the little Bohemian proceeded to incapacitate every single one of her employees did all her doubts disappear

It hadn't taken long to deduce that her quarry possessed some kind of chromatic-based hypnosis. Whatever the source of this power, apparently its effects did not pass through her flourishing eyes. She had tested this by punching one of the Billions in the crotch during the scuffle, and was pleased to note that her attack was not drawn to any of the red targets painted around the room. As long as she didn't use her own eyes to look, apparently the hypnotic spell had no effect. After acting to make certain that she would be well-removed from any of the more direct color attacks, Robin then went about disarming her pursuer.

So. I found her. But honestly, what do I _do _with her? Robin stared at the strangely solemn shrimp she was now certain was responsible for sending hundreds of pirates to prison, if not their deaths. In spite of her reputation, she doesn't strike me as the type to be interested in taking over countries.

Although truth be told, neither am I. Well, might as well make the offer.

Penny had cleaned her plate once more. Leaning forward, the vice-president of Baroques Works said, "How would you like to work for my company?"

She had been rehearsing a speech to try and tempt the Shadow Hunter when she found them, complete with arguments and alluring temptations. But a direct approach seemed more suitable for this person. Still, thanks to her preparations, Robin had thought herself ready to handle anything their prospective employee might throw at her.

She had been expecting a question regarding the nature of the job. Staring at her out of those great big eyes, Penny instead asked, "Can I still keep painting?"

Crocodile's going to get a real kick out of this one.

"Of course. As much as you like."

The girl's gaze drifted off to one side. She reached over and took a cracker off the stack she had been hoarding to herself since the waiter brought the first plate. Biting down on it, she scooted her knees to her chest and wrapped an arm around them.

"Will I make more money if I stay here?"

Actually, if you refuse, I've been ordered to kill you. But Nico decided against sharing that information, and instead replied, "No."

"Okay, then."

And with that, the matter seemed to be settled. Robin signaled the waiter to bring the check, and when he did she asked him to make that last order to go. As he left to get her change, she turned to find that Penny had fallen asleep with her head on her knees.

While not tenderhearted by nature, the only surviving inhabitant of Ohara Island had to admit she was charmed by the sight. It was hard to imagine what, if anything, was going on behind those placid brown pools, but the girl had spirit, and Baroques Works could certainly find a use for someone of her demonstrated talents. Perhaps it was this that caused her to pick the exhausted child up in her arms and carry her out, snagging the food and change with a few extra limbs and exiting before the waiter could realize what he saw.

Was it foolish to see something of herself in that sleeping face? All alone, with the world apparently batting away every attempt you made to find your dream? There was no guarantee what she was offering would help the little artist in that respect either. In fact, it most likely would just lead to a painful death. Nico Robin had no illusions about the enterprise they were involved in. One misstep, one seemingly inconsequential error overlooked, and they might all wind up swinging from the gallows. But Baroques Works was the most promising lead she had, and her quest could not be ignored for any misgivings, whether her own or anyone else's.

Strolling through the loud, sunny streets on the way back towards her vessel, it occurred to Miss All-Sunday that their newest member would need a codename. Garishly-garbed students raced along beside them, rattling beads and spraying each other with squirt-guns. Their carefree laughter was slightly irksome to Robin. Penny never even stirred, sleeping the sleep of the just. She certainly didn't seem to have a care in the world, like she was on vacation, waiting for her dream to start.

The answer came to her then, and the archaeologist-turned-assassin smiled.

"Sleep tight, little Miss Golden Week."

_**FIN.**_


	4. Guard Your Tongue

"Welcome to Impel Down."

She jumped, spinning around to face the person who had spoken and saluting smartly.

"Sergeant Tashigi, overseeing transfer of the Short Juan Bronze pirate crew, ma'am!"

Behind her, she could have sworn she heard someone snicker.

"Sergeant…"

Tashigi gave a start.

"Who are you talking to?"

Abruptly the bob-haired swordswoman realized that she had neglected to put her glasses back on when she stepped indoors. Maybe it had been an unconscious reaction, not wanting to get too clear a look at what went on behind the gates of Hell, as this place was widely reputed to be. But as a female sergeant in the Navy, she knew from long experience that it wouldn't do to comport herself in a timid manner. You had to face your fears head on. Hurriedly the blushing young officer dropped her eyewear down from its place atop her head, and everything around her sprang into picture-perfect clarity.

Standing before her (somewhat further to the left than the Marine had initially presumed), the guard captain of this legendary prison might have been in the same position as herself. She had introduced herself as Domino, and while sporting a notably feminine figure in her tight uniform, her bearing let everyone know that she was not to be taken lightly. Whatever she might think of Tashigi was hidden behind her own reflective sunglasses and unsmiling yet still lovely features. This lady certainly wouldn't allow an unruly mob of prisoners to have a chuckle at her expense. Even if she hadn't intended to, Domino's cool professional demeanor served as an example to the younger woman, and she strove to ameliorate the damage from her previous lapse.

"As Captain Chokehold's acting subordinate, I am officially handing over charge of these prisoners to you, Domino-san." She held out the transfer orders, which her counterpart accepted. Glancing quickly through the documents, Domino handed them off to one of her junior associates and gestured to the prison guards standing behind her. They moved in to take control of the shackled ne'er-do-wells huddled behind Tashigi's complement of Marines. The blonde beauty then saluted Tashigi, boot-heels clicking together in her parade-style military dress.

"We acknowledge your efforts, Sergeant. The staff of Impel Down swears that this rabble will no more trouble the peace of the seas you Marines fight so fiercely to defend."

"HAH!"

At this, Tashigi's gloved fingers tightened around the hilt of her katana Shigure. Staring straight ahead, she found it harder to emulate the casual aloofness embodied in Domino. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, but she had been hoping to be back aboard the ship by the time he saw fit to start up again. Not for the first time today, she dearly wished to have been the sort of Marine who abused prisoners. But such foulness was exactly the sort of thing she worked tirelessly to drill out of the soldiers placed under her command. Some of them seemed to be under the impression that as representatives of the World Government, they were permitted to behave however they pleased, especially in regards to prisoners. Such thoughts were best eradicated while they were still low-grade, before it transformed into a behavior set that would besmirch the reputation of the Navy.

On the other hand, viciousness and cruelty were characteristics that pirates encouraged in their brethren. And Arnold 'The Benediction' Berinholtz, former Marine lieutenant turned savage cutthroat, had clearly found the mantle of an outlaw more suiting to his sadistic ways.

Dressed in ragged finery, notably stained with blood and dirt now, Berinholtz rattled his shackles and sneered at them. "Lord, it's such a relief to find that even after everything that's happened, the old self-righteous jibber-jabber hasn't changed a bit. You're both so full of that good ardent Marine love, aren't you? Why don't you give each other a kiss, hmm?" he sneered, gesturing towards the two women. "Come on, let's have a show, now! We won't tell if your superiors don't ask!"

The other wretches, all seemingly high-strung at the prospect of being incarcerated in the world's most lethal prison, took up his taunts. Apparently they felt it wouldn't matter if they behaved badly now or not.

"Yeah, don't be shy, missy! Lay the lips to her!"

"C'mon over here, we'll give you Sallies what you need!"

"That's right! The Marines couldn't take my most dangerous sword! I'll tickle you with it later!"

"Slip outta those clothes, Sergeant, let's see that treasure chest! I been thinkin' bout yer booty this whole voyage!"

At a gesture from their commander, the prison guards moved in with their staves and cudgels and proceeded to roughly corral the foul-mouthed brutes. While disliking the idea of brutalizing chained captives, Tashigi found herself disinclined to comment. They were out of her hands now, and she was glad for it. This sort of crude talk was nothing new to her, but it still made the valiant young woman furious. Were there no boundaries of decency these men wouldn't cross? She glared at Arnold furiously as he stumbled by, her face flushed from ire, but he took this to mean something else.

"Look at her, she's blushing at the thought!" Berinholtz crowed gleefully. "I knew you had feelings for me, you randy cabin-whore! Why don't we go into that room over there and I'll give you something to remember me by, eh? I'll even let you lick the little love-bite you gave me earlier, what do you say?"

He was referring to the failed breakout that Benediction and some of the other prisoners had attempted on the way here. While she had personally disarmed him of his purloined cutlass, apparently this in no way endeared any respect for her in his heart. Tashigi glared daggers at the turncoat as he went by, but this proved far less effective against him than her sword had been. He continued to spew crude slanders at her and Domino as they were manhandled over to the lift that would transport them to the lower levels of this underwater fortress, most likely never to see the sun again. Perhaps it was this threat that spurred the vicious vagabond to such creative invectives.

"I overheard your men talking! It's lucky for you you're being transferred to the East Blue, eh, you little bed-warmer? The Grand Line would have eaten you up! Get yourself settled in nice and cozy over in those weak waters, _Sergeant. _You know in the East they promote you based on how well you can lick your commander's brass?? I can tell your mouth was made for that sort of work, explains how you got where you are today, you nasty knob-polisher!"

Several of the Marines under her command bristled at this relentless assault on their valued officer's character, but they kept themselves in check, following her example. The matter of her transfer had nothing to do with perceived inadequacies, she had told herself often. It was simply that many new recruits had their first posts in East Blue, in order to condition them to a sailor's life. Whatever the public perceptions about the World Government, it wasn't so inconsiderate of its soldiers that it arbitrarily dropped them off in dangerous locales like the Grand Line fresh out of the academy. And Tashigi was one of the most adept fencing instructors currently in the service, regardless of her admittedly naïve tendencies. Therefore she had been assigned as an official master-at-arms for the up-and-coming Marines at the base in Loguetown, considered to be the most dangerous spot in all that relatively peaceful ocean. It wasn't an indication of dissatisfaction with her work. Simply a solid assessment of where in the military hierarchy her talents could be of the greatest benefit.

That was what she had been told. And she believed it, she truly did. But the fact remained, Tashigi was a woman, and some people had openly expressed the opinion that she was treated with greater care by the authorities as a result of her gender. To combat the appearance of sexism, they said. After all, it wasn't as if there were that many female Marines, much less officers. And despite her conviction to disregard such ill-conceived notions, their words had a way of coming back to her at the strangest times.

Drawing over to stand beside Tashigi, Domino crossed her arms as they both overheard this tirade. "It's just a desperate man's talk. Pay it no mind." She appeared unperturbed by Arnold's theatrics, most likely having seen its sort hundreds of times a week. "He thinks he knows what awaits him, but rest assured, we'll show him torments his imagination could never have conceived of before today."

Tashigi understood she was right, and certainly this wasn't the worst treatment she had ever received. But damned if it didn't still smart. Even if you considered yourself far superior to someone in terms of morality or lifestyle, it was never pleasant to hear yourself spoken of in unflattering terms. For a moment the idea occurred to her that she should have been less merciful in her duel with Berinholtz, and perhaps relieved him of his tongue, along with other body parts.

But once more she mastered herself, resolutely turning her back on the ruffian and saying, "Thank you, Domino-san. I wish I could take satisfaction at the thought, but just having him locked away forever would be fine with me." The elevator had ascended, and the portcullis began to rise behind her with a rumbling squeal. In just a few moments, this lot would be nothing more than a memory. "And besides, I'm not about to let some ill-tempered rogue rob me of my self-respe…"

The barred door lifted, and beside her, Domino gave a small gasp, stiffening noticeably. Surprised, Tashigi turned to regard her. The woman's formerly collected face now bore a distinct look of trepidation. Upon realizing this, the drill instructor realized that silence had fallen over the chamber, its previous cacophony replaced with an almost eerie quiet.

The sergeant came about, and immediately saw the reason why.

A man was stepping out of the lift. His height was so great that he actually had to duck his head beneath the overhang, and when he rose up fully, it was apparent that he stood almost twice as tall as an ordinary person. As he stepped onto the landing, all the prisoners, as well as the guards, drew back from him, giving Tashigi a clear view. This new visitor was dressed in a long black overcoat, with a white officer's coat further draped over yard-long shoulders. His hands were encased in black leather gloves, and a sword as prodigiously proportioned as its owner swung at his belt. There was a crest on his belt buckle resembling a winged crown, and this same motif was repeated on his peaked cap. Ear flaps descended to his neck, effectively encasing that broad face inside the collar of his coat. The clean-shaven chin boasted lines so sharp it looked like he had cut the razor before it ever cut him. His nose was broad and pointed, practically triangular, framed with small, heavy-lidded eyes that had an air of bored malice in their depths. All in all, those features reminded her uncomfortably of a bull, possessing a flat, brutal menace to them.

A cigar was clamped between the towering behemoth's jaws, and he withdrew it to exhale a stream of smoke, smacking his lips. Dangerous eyes drifted over the assembled masses. He spared barely a glance for Tashigi and her men, for which she was immediately thankful. The way he looked at the prisoners, though, combined with the manner in which he fingered his sword's hilt, left her certain that she was looking at the official executioner of Impel Down.

For once even Benediction seemed too overwhelmed to speak, and Domino seized this chance to quickly make her way over to that imposing figure.

"Head Gaoler Shiryū, sir." She saluted him with strict efficiency, but there was a note of unease in her voice. "I thought you were occupied on the lower levels."

Shiryū didn't bother looking at his associate. Instead he focused in on the face of Arnold Berinholtz. "I heard this one all the way down on the Third Floor," he breathed, tucking the cigar back in his mouth and letting smoke drift between his teeth. "Such atrocious things to speak in a lady's presence," the giant chided the prisoner softly.

At this, Arnold seemed to find his tongue once more. "Are you going to rap my knuckles with a ruler, Hell-Ogre?" he snapped, glaring with wild eyes up at that soaring peak of martial menace. "With a beak like you're boasting and that white coat, it makes you look like a chicken! Go cluck at someone else, or better yet, scratch me up some food! I'm starving over here!"

It was a testimonial to the horror the Head Gaoler had imbued in her on sight that Tashigi found herself sincerely wishing that Berinholtz would shut up, for his own sake and possibly hers as well. But in response to these comments, Shiryū only exhaled another stream of smoke and continued to gaze steadily at the offending party as though Arnold were a bug he was considering squashing. After a few more moments of silence, he shifted his shoulders and spoke once more.

"My apologies. It seems my underlings have been lacking in their duties as hosts. Please allow me to tend to your needs."

With that, he took a step forward and snagged Berinholtz by the collar, dragging him out of the mob and marching him towards a door off to one side.

"You want to try your luck, Corporal Punishment?" the pirate yelled crazily. "Take off these shackles and I'll snub that cigar out in your eye!"

"Sir, what are you doing?" Domino protested, hurrying to catch up to them. Tashigi admired her bravery. She certainly wouldn't have felt comfortable following that man, much less questioning him outright. "We have to process the prisoners before anything else, the Chief Warden said…!"

"Magellan's taking care of his business," Shiryū growled without breaking stride. " 'Til he gets out, we're handling things my way."

"I'll handle _you_, you can be certain of that, Chimney-Stack! The bigger they are, the dumber they be! I hope you've enjoyed having functioning legs, because when I'm through with you, you'll be…!"

This last sentence was cut off as Shiryū shoved Berinholtz through the open portal, slamming it shut behind him. Apparently the room they entered was sound-proofed, as no further noises came from within. Domino hesitated for a moment outside, then walked over to where Tashigi stood mesmerized by this scene.

"Please excuse me, but I think it would be for the best if you and your men took your leave now. I have to go rouse the Warden. I hope you have a safe journey home, Sergeant Tashigi."

The guard captain saluted and left, brusquely giving orders to her fellow guards to continue bringing in the new prisoners as she did.

One of the soldiers under Tashigi's command approached hesitantly. "Ma'am?"

She didn't answer.

"Er… Sergeant Tashigi, ma'am? Captain Chokehold is waiting. Shall we… return to the _Jury-Rigged?"_

Standing with her back to him, he saw her head turn slightly, blue-black hair gleaming in the torchlight. "Yes. Board the ship." Then she went back to staring at that closed gate. "I'll be with you shortly."

The Marine hesitated, but firmly-entrenched discipline, combined with something in her voice, prevented him from questioning the order. A few moments later, Tashigi stood alone in that cold stone hall.

Not a single sound came from the room into which the two men had entered. But somehow, that made it all the worse.

That man… Shiryū. Her skin crawled at the memory of the look in his bright black eyes.

Of a sudden she was moving towards that dire portal, so ordinary-looking, but still harboring a very real peril at this moment.

Why am I doing this? Tashigi thought as she drew closer. 'Benediction' Berinholtz… he was a traitor to their cause, and a first-rate villain, responsible for rape and murder on the outside world. I haven't received any orders, and Berinholtz has been officially transferred over to the jurisdiction of Impel Down. I don't have the authority to interfere with anything that goes on in this facility.

But some things in life aren't about orders, she finally decided upon. It's my duty as an officer of the law, and as a human being, to ensure that prisoners in our custody are treated with humanity and dignity. We provide medical relief to wounded pirates, after all. And the thought of a shackled prisoner being treated badly, no matter their character, left a bad taste in her mouth.

She reached the door and gripped the handle, finding it unlocked. Feeling a drop of sweat gliding down her spine, the swordswoman took a deep breath and opened it slowly, peering inside. The room was dark, and the brightness spilling in from outside made it hard to distinguish anything.

There came a long, low groan.

"What's that? Is our cuisine not to your taste?"

The sound of boot-leather scuffing over stone came to her ears.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have spoken up, then."

And then Tashigi saw it.

She was looking into a small chamber that resembled a coatroom. The Head Gaoler was standing in the center of the room. Berinholtz was down on his knees before the hulking prison guard, twitching and struggling faintly. Shiryū had one huge hand wrapped around the pirate's neck. His sword was out of its sheathe. At first Tashigi couldn't really conceive what her eyes were telling her, and she actually reached up to make sure her glasses were in place and this wasn't some kind of awful mistake. But then it became frightfully clear.

Shiryū was feeding the man his tremendous sword.

Inch by inch the steel blade went into that gagging mouth, past the foam-flecked lips and down his throat. It was like a circus performance, although clearly the person swallowing the blade had no control over this event. His fingers clutched and beat futilely at his torturer's grip. Shiryū didn't seem to notice this, anymore than he was swayed by the tears flowing down that dirty face, or the frightened, half-mad eyes begging him to stop. Instead he continued to coax the weapon into Berinholtz's gullet with all the care and precision of a surgeon performing an operation.

"You should be happy, you know." His voice was soft and lethal as a serpent's hiss. "I could have gone in from the other end. But that's something you can look forward to later. Now tell me: are you still hungry? Is my sweet blade enough to fill your rumbling belly? Come now, give us an answer. She's a tasty thing, isn't she? I've had reason to sample her before, but never to the extent that you're undergoing."

An animal whimper was his only response.

The demented maniac bent in a little closer. "What's that, you say? Speak up. I can't hear you."

"_YOU INHUMAN __**MONSTER**__!!"_

That shout was so loud it made Tashigi flinch. Even more so when she realized that it had come from her own lips. Just as surprising was the realization that her sword Shigure was clenched in her trembling grip. She didn't remember drawing it, but now that she had, the reason was obvious.

This right here, this… abomination. _This_ is what I fight to keep from happening. It's not justice that he's doing. It's torture. Sick, twisted, unbearable torture designed for no purpose except to break a human being down into a frightened beast.

And it has to stop.

The Marine sergeant was standing in the room with them now, her weapon trained on Shiryū. He slowly turned his head to regard her, a look of surprise evident on his blockish features. Perhaps he was unaccustomed to anyone interfering with his amusements. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out who she was. His feral eyes locked on her pale, sweating face.

Then they dropped lower.

"Oh. What a beautiful blade."

The maniacal prison guard rose to his full height. His own weapon withdrew from Arnold's craw with a sick slithering sound, and the traumatized seafarer collapsed to the side, apparently unconscious. For her part, Tashigi felt all her senses growing more focused. There was bloody saliva along the other man's sword, causing it to gleam faintly in the light pouring in from behind her. She could smell the burning tobacco from his cigar. And something else, something that she could have sworn was the scent of rain. The sound of her own heartbeat was heavy in her ears, and the feel of her wool-lined coat was rough against her arms.

He's absolutely enormous, she thought. But what was it Berinholtz said? The bigger they are, the…

"So lovely."

Shiryū was standing right in front of her, examining the tang of her sword. Wet steel pressed against her cheek, warm from blood and saliva. The young woman stared. She hadn't even seen him move. Granted, they were fighting in a broom closet (this was a fight? If so, I think I just lost), but all the same, there should have been some indication.

"Shigure, I do believe," the man holding a naked sword to her neck continued in a musing rumble. "A Meitou, one of the Wazamono Grade Swords. What an absolute treat to see it."

His gleaming eyes came over to meet her own frightened brown orbs.

"You should be thankful to have wielded such a treasure in your lifetime."

The next thing she knew, Tashigi's hands were empty, and she was shoved face-first down onto a wooden bench. A heavy hand splayed over her back kept her down. She coughed, unable to breathe for a moment, much less think.

"But you've seen something you weren't meant to. Why do you think I broke the Den-Den Mushi camera in here? I don't like an audience when I work."

She tried to rise, and was slammed down hard for her efforts. The pain was nothing great, but the feeling of helplessness that came with it… now that was what could really break a person. Above her, Shiryū continued talking in a conversational vein.

"My sword is somewhat put out. You interrupted her fun, but I must admit I am partly to blame. She doesn't like it when I admire other weapons too freely. Makes her somewhat cross with me." There came an admonishing sigh. "There's really only one thing I can think of to set matters right between us."

Horrified, the young woman felt the bare wood pressing into her cheek and against her stomach where her shirt had ridden up. And then, she experienced something much worse, as his free hand gripped the back of her jeans.

"I'm going to have to let her get a feel for your insides. If you hold still, I'm certain I can do so without causing much in the way of internal bleeding. You won't have anything to worry about afterwards." He paused, apparently considering something. "Are you a virgin, by any chance?"

Her tongue wasn't working, perhaps in shock at the thought of what he meant to do to her, else Tashigi would have protested this treatment. She felt him begin to tug down on her pants. No. Stop. You can't do this. It's wrong. Someone help me. Please stop him please…

"PARDON MY INTRUSION, SHIRYŪ-SAN!"

Her impending violation halted, and a strange knocking sound came to her ears then. Looking up, the terrified young woman saw an absolutely bizarre-looking person standing in the doorway. It appeared to be a man, only with yellow skin and horns coming out of his brow. Bare-chested, he stood almost as tall as Shiryū, with lean ropy arms and an enormous pot-belly that lent him a somewhat comical appearance. This person was wearing a loincloth and baggy pants, along with what seemed to be the traditional royal headdress normally associated with the ancient civilization of Alabasta. His face had a particularly fearsome cast to it, teeth bared in a grim frown. In spite of this impression, it quickly became apparent to her that the rattling sound from before was his knees knocking together, which was a weirdly obvious sign of discomfort on this otherwise imposing figure. He also seemed a little out of breath, as though he had been running to get here.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I just came to fix a problem. I ran into Domino coming upstairs, and she told me that there might be some trouble with the Den-Den Mushi for this room. Since it is my duty as Warden… I'm sorry, _Vice_-Warden, to see that all maintenance is done swiftly and without fail, I took it upon myself to bring a replacement."

Both Tashigi and Shiryū glanced at his hand. Sure enough, an active snail-o-camera was alert and recording everything that was going on between them.

"Hanyabal." Shiryū murmured the name in a way that could only be described as quietly murderous.

"And just in case this one was damaged, I had _the officers outside_ bring three more!"

Her assailant seemed to consider this information, while her possible savior was clearly striving with all his might not to turn around and flee for his life. The two men stood facing one another down.

Then the Head Gaoler rose up and stepped away. Immediately Hanyabal bent over and hooked Tashigi by the arm, dragging her upright.

"If there is nothing more that needs to be done here, I'll have the guards escort that prisoner behind you to my processing center so that you don't have to. Please excuse us now, Shiryū-san."

Hanyabal then turned and marched the stunned sergeant into the main hall, past several armed guards who rushed in after him. He led her over to the doors leading back out into the open air, then stopped and turned to face her.

"Are you hurt?"

Tashigi stared up into his weird, ugly face framed by blue sky and sunlight, and swore she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

"No."

"You were very brave to do what you did, but honestly I wish you hadn't," Hanyabal continued. "I saw what was happening in my control room for this floor, and I got here as soon as I could. We try to keep Shiryū clear of incoming prisoners because of their tendency to mouth off on the first day, but sometimes he just shows up anyway. Please accept my apologies for what you had to witness."

"_Witness?"_

She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears and sudden anger. "That… _thing _almost…!"

"Pardon me, ma'am. I believe this belongs to you."

Tashigi glanced back. One of the grim-faced officers was standing behind her, holding out her sword. Uncertainly she reached out to grasp it. Hanyabal dismissed his subordinate with a nod. As he did, they both saw Arnold Berinholtz being carried out of the room on a stretcher, followed by Shiryū. The deathly figure stood up straight and looked over to where Tashigi and Hanyabal were watching him, puffing on his cigar. He looked completely calm, but his minions gave him a wide berth as they went by.

The sight of him caused her stomach to clench. Fearing that she might throw up, the valiant young fighter looked away. She clutched Shigure to her chest and tried her hardest to keep her arms from trembling. For a moment Tashigi felt certain that the screams and cries of the people being castigated elsewhere in Impel Down were ringing clearly in her ears, and it made her teeth grit in frustration.

"It's _evil_," she whispered, fighting back a sob. "This place, what goes on here… it shouldn't be allowed, it should be walled up, filled in with cement and forgotten. It's _monstrous!"_

"No."

The Vice-Warden was gazing down at her sympathetically, standing with arms dangling loosely at his sides. His posture might have appeared slack, but there was no denying the resolve in his voice.

"Impel Down serves a purpose. It might not seem that way to you now, but there is a reason that we live our lives in the darkness of this prison, surrounded by fiends and killers. It's so that the rest of humanity won't have to. That is the sacrifice you and I share. We both choose to face the darkness, for the sake of those who can't bear to. Behind these walls, all the world's nightmares are kept safely locked away." His gaze came up then, and he looked angrily to where Shiryū continued to watch them in silence. "_All_ the nightmares."

Hanyabal brought his attention back to her. He then gestured out to where her ship lay docked. "Our duties await us. I wish you good fortune on your voyage. Goodbye, my Tashi…" He caught himself in time. "Er, I mean, _Sergeant _Tashigi."

The girl blinked at him. Then military discipline took over, and she sheathed her blade while raising her hand in salute.

"Thank you, Hanyabal-dono." And she meant it.

He placed a fist to his heart in farewell, then stood by to let her pass. She walked down the dock, being careful not to trip or fall. Fortunately for her, the embarrassing clumsiness that usually marked her did not choose to appear at this time.

This was never a more welcome relief, for as she walked, she could feel the eyes of a killer boring relentlessly into her back.

Only when she crossed the gangplank and came back into the crowd of Marines did this feeling disappear. With that, Tashigi went to report to the captain before they cast off to her new home.

As they set sail for Loguetown, she found herself strangely hoping that her new commanding officer wasn't a smoker.

Back in Impel Down, Shiryū watched the woman leave. After she was gone, he turned and headed downstairs before that craven Hanyabal could accost him. The Head Gaoler lit a fresh cigar, but found that it did nothing to improve his mood.

Well, then. What would?

* * *

He gave the order for the cameras in a section of Level Two to be turned off.

He gave the order for the prisoners to be released from their cells.

He gave the order for all the guards to leave.

And then he killed.

"SHIRYŪ! What are you doing?!"

He turned, blood running down his blade, to find Magellan standing at his back. Well, hell. He had expected the Head Warden to still be busy trying to force out that bowl of poisoned corn mash. Seems that Fortune was not on his side this day.

All the same, the Head Gaoler smiled and said, "Do you really have to ask?"

Magellan bristled, then loudly proclaimed, "These inmates are not here to slaughter for your amusement, Shiryū!"

I beg to differ. Out loud, though, all he said was, "What does it matter if I skewer a few bugs now and then?"

His devilish comrade glared at him poisonously.

"Hanyabal told me what you were going to do to that Marine."

Nuts. He had been hoping the little weasel would be too cowardly to mention it to his superior. But apparently he had grown a spine sometime recently. I'll have to see about ripping it out. Well, no point denying anything now.

"I'll regret not being able to for the rest of my days," he sighed.

In response, Magellan's face began to glow with a toxic sheen. "You'll regret far more than that, I promise you." The poison-man advanced on him, and Shiryū of the Rain raised his blade. A thought came to him then that made him smile.

Who would've known that his Goddess of Fate would need glasses?

_**FIN.**_


	5. Kangaroo Court

"_Would you care to dance?" he grinned at her, his feet tapping out a rhythm in time to the gang leader's frenzied screams. _

* * *

A gavel cracked on the wooden bench.

"I now bring this court to order!"

Captain Hina blinked, coming back from the disturbing memory. Bailiffs had taken up their places at the entrances, and the judge, a severe-looking old bulldog named Croplam, settled back on his raised chair. He adjusted his spectacles, took a sip of water, and turned his attention out upon the packed courtroom.

"What's the first case, then, Madgwick?"

His legal aide rushed up with the docket. "Sir, Case #123987. The defendant, Summer Salt, is accused of operating an adults-only kissing-and-carousing booth at the local circus. We have…"

"Put that one away," the judge harrumphed, "and bring up #245660."

A murmur went through the stands, and Madgwick seemed taken aback. He recovered swiftly, however, and turned to the hovering court officers.

"Bring in the prisoner."

According to the court flunkey Hina had spoken to earlier, her presence wouldn't be needed until the fourth case. Whether this meant she would have to remain for another ten minutes or half the day was now a moot point. It would seem this particular judge was keen on getting to the meatiest fare on his docket right off the bat. While this meant less of her day would be wasted, the blonde captain still frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. It irked her to see protocol not being followed in this case. The whole point was to illustrate the rule of law over anyone, no matter their title or position. Some things were worth any amount of time and attention. The people involved in this case demanded justice.

She had to make sure it was done right.

The crowd in the courtroom was buzzing in anticipation. Perhaps it was simply paranoia, or ego, but the Marine officer couldn't help but think that most of them were here in regards to her case. Certainly there was only one official accusation brought against the man, but something told her that it wasn't the first time he had strayed beyond the bounds of the law. Any other witnesses had probably been intimidated into silence. Or maybe even disposed of altogether, she thought with a certain level of wrath. In his position, there were no doubt numerous methods available for getting rid of unwanted individuals. It was only through luck that the Government had been made aware of what was going on in this bustling city of Laca Traz in West Blue. But now that they were, the process was to be handled according to the dictates of law. Behavior like his was not to be tolerated.

A door opened in one side of the room, and the prisoner was escorted in, manacled at hands and feet and under heavy guard. Silence fell over the chamber. This allowed them all to clearly hear the sound of his chains clinking. That and one more thing.

His footsteps.

_Click-tap. Click-tap. Clickety-tap._

It only took a few seconds for the defendant to be brought to the podium before the judge's bench, but that repetitive paean made every one of those increments grate on Hina's nerves. He stood before the rail, completely at ease and still wearing the pants and shirt of his derelict position. That was another sign that not enough care was being taken with these proceedings. By all rights, he should have been stripped of those clothes. But maybe the higher-ups had decided he would remain in the garb he had soiled with his actions, as a reminder to all of how far their judgment could reach. A military trial might have been more appropriate, considering everything that was at stake here. Although if you really wanted to get technical…

"…nd so we call the first witness, Captain Hina of the Black Cage Squadron."

Hina realized that she had not being paying attention to what was being said. They had already read through the charges and the prosecution was bringing up its first witness. Without a jury, things should go much faster.

The curvaceous combatant rose and marched past the docket where her enemy stood smiling blissfully. Arriving at the witness stand, she faced one of the court officers, who raised his right hand. She did the same

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the complete truth, and only the truth?"

"Hina honest."

"Pardon?"

Slipping off her sunglasses and tucking them into her pocket, she glowered past him at the fugitive.

"I do."

Hina took her seat, and the prosecution approached.

"Now, Captain," the lawyer drawled. "Please relate to us the events that occurred last month on the 13th, a Friday."

"Gladly," she spit, and leaned forward.

* * *

"HEY! Wake up!"

Sleeping with his boots propped up on a desk, the call sergeant suddenly found himself upended from his chair to spill out onto the squad room floor. He made a beleaguered attempt to scramble to his knees, but the booted heel planted firmly on his neck made that a wasted effort.

Looking up, he caught his breath at the sight of the heavenly Venus attired in business suit and military overcoat who was squashing him underfoot.

"I'm looking for a man named Buscott."

It certainly wasn't the most comfortable position he had ever been in with regards to a lady, but considering the view, there normally wouldn't have been anything to complain about. The sound of that name, however, cut off all notions of hanky-panky his brain had been concocting for this golden-haired goddess. It wouldn't be appropriate, considering. After finally discerning the insignia on her white Marine coat, he managed to sputter, "C-Captain, I'm sorry, what do you want to sp-speak to him for?"

"That's none of your concern." The lady removed the cigarette she had been smoking and stubbed it out in his ashtray. She managed to do this in a way that let him know his eyeball could just as well have been used for that same purpose, while still managing to look hot at the same time. "Just tell me how to find him."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but… Cadet Buscott has been missing for two days. Nobody knows where he is."

This information brought a glower to her flawless features.

"Where's your lieutenant?"

"GUGH!" he gasped, sweating and twitching. "Wh-which lieutenant, Ma-?"

"You know which one."

Pressure applied to his jugular let him know the answer, in the way only pain could. Considering who they were talking about, it made a queer sort of sense.

"He's… on the waterfront, by the post office! They're rousting a gang of… pickpockets today."

The lady absorbed this information. She took her foot off him and spun about to address a squad of Marines standing behind her, long blonde hair flicking out like a whip.

"Report back to the ship. Tell them to cut off any avenues of escape from that area. I don't want the target slipping away should someone give him a tip-off that we're here."

One cold brown eye looked back at the sergeant as she said this last, letting him know that if anyone did warn the person in question, his head would be on the chopping block regardless of guilt or innocence. And he took that message to heart. The Den-Den Mushi lines would now be zealously manned to prevent any word leaving the precinct about the femme fatale and her intentions.

As that intimidating figure left, in spite of the treatment he had received at her hands, he silently wished her luck.

Bring the bastard down, lady.

* * *

"What was the reason for your traveling to the island of Laca Traz, Captain?"

_Click-click-tap. Click-tap-tap-click._

"Captain Hina?"

The prosecutor leaned up against the side of the bench, and she broke off from her reverie. Damn that man! Even on trial for his life, he had to make a spectacle of himself. Like a little soft-shoe was his way of demonstrating his contempt for these proceedings.

Let's see you tap-dance your way out of this, freak.

"I received a report from Cadet Buscott," she responded to the question. "In it, he stated that the accused was waging a campaign of terror and abuse on the residents of that island, keeping the other police officers subdued through intimidation and unspecified threats. In his message, Buscott implied that there was some kind of conspiracy in the ranks. According to him, this was not the first attempt made to bring these atrocities to light, but for some reason nothing ever came of it. Witnesses to the defendant's crimes either recanted their accusations or the other officers took steps to cover them up. In some cases, the people who levied the charges simply vanished. The cadet could find no explanation as to why so many were acting in this person's interests."

Her ally in this case began to pace around. "And why would this Buscott not submit official charges to his superiors? Why go over the chain of command and seek you out?"

"He chose to forego the official methods of reporting abuses out of fear that nothing would come of it, like all the times before. Instead he contacted me." Hina now directed an icy glare at the spot where the defendant remained casually imprisoned. "Buscott and I came from the same island and had been classmates in the Academy briefly, though we never met beforehand. He failed to pass the physical exams for a position in the Marines, but still wanted to serve, so instead he fulfilled the less rigorous qualifications to become a police officer in West Blue. I trusted his judgment on this matter. Hina concerned."

"Ob-objection, Your Honor!" The public defender at this trial, who had been rifling furiously through her notes, finally seemed to find her voice. "Much of this is hearsay, speculation! It is… inflammatory and…irrelevant!"

"I'll decide what is relevant to this case," Judge Croplam grunted, knitting his shaggy gray brows together. "Overruled. The witness may continue."

The judge appeared hostile. The public defender looked overwhelmed. The prosecutor seemed certain of victory.

And as for the defendant…

He still had that empty-headed grin on his face.

At that point, Hina swore she would bury him.

"As soon as I learned of Buscott's disappearance, I wasted no more time and moved to apprehend the suspect."

* * *

Once her men were in place, Hina and the rest of the Black Cage descended on the rundown bar designated as their target's location. It wasn't terribly difficult to find. The size of the crowd milling about in front of it, peppered as it was with lawmen, certainly let anyone know that something was going on here.

Since the loyalties of these police officers was somewhat in question, and considering how pissed she was feeling at that time, some forcefulness on her part could be appreciated.

A powerful kick sent one cop flying through the air screaming. Before the others could react, her men had moved to surround them.

"Where is your lieutenant?" she growled, almost hoping one of them would try something stupid. But then, it wouldn't do to waste any of her cold fury on this lot. Not when a more deserving target was somewhere in the vicinity.

Apparently her obvious rank prevented the policemen from even considering resistance as an option. "He's inside the… premises," one of them stammered while glancing nervously at the grim-faced naval officers surrounding them. "Interrogating the leader of this gang."

He then indicated off to one side. Turning her head, Hina found herself confronted by about a dozen grimy children, all handcuffed, all clearly terrified. Some sported fresh bruises or were clutching injured limbs.

Before she could think of anything else, a shriek came from the building behind her.

"ANIKI!" one of the kids cried out.

"O-nee-san, please stop him!" another pleaded desperately, staring at her from a tear-stained face. "He's hurting Big Bro!"

That settled it.

"Watch them!" she commanded her troops, then turned and strode determinedly into the abandoned edifice.

At first Hina could see nothing. The bright sunlight pouring into the room from the open doorway was the only illumination, the windows all being boarded up. But a few seconds later her eyes adjusted, and she could make out the contents of the room clearly. It was dusty and cluttered with junk around the corners. Old tables lay scattered about, some with chairs still propped up on them, and at the far side of the low-ceilinged hall there was a long bar that stretched practically from one wall to another.

Another scream came, and she left off scanning her environment and moved towards the source of that cry.

There was a door leading into what must be a kitchen at the end of the bar, and lounging in a chair before it was the man she was looking for. He was skinny as a rail, the brown policeman's uniform looking rather like a scarecrow's costume on his slender frame. Black shoulder-length hair beneath an officer's cap set off the unhealthy pallor of his skin, and shockingly red lips did the same for that pearly-white smile. Gold hoops were looped through the ears. His eyes were large with black pinpoints for irises, creepy as hell, especially in this setting.

Leaning his seat back against the balustrade, the man had flung his long legs up to rest shiny black shoes against the door across the way. On the floor in front of him was a kid who couldn't be older than thirteen. The boy's left hand was caught in the doorframe, and as Hina approached, she saw the vampire stretch casually and yawn. As he did, he pressed his feet against the door, using the bar behind him for support. While it didn't look like he was applying much pressure, the heavy wooden portal ground into the child's soft fingers, crushing them like a vice and bringing another ear-splitting howl from his lips.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," the police officer taunted while tapping a billy-club against one palm. "I asked you where you hid the valuables you've stolen from the honest citizens of this town. As an officer of the law, I'm sure you can understand my desire to see those goods returned to their rightful owners. Now," and he pressed down harder, eliciting a squeal in response, "Let's see some cooperation."

"Lieutenant Lafitte!"

Apparently he hadn't heard her approach over the sounds of torture, for a look of surprise came over his features as he turned to regard the white-cloaked warrior. His eyes roamed up and down Hina's body, before settling on her face.

"You've found him," he supplied unnecessarily, and offered her a pleasant smile. "What can I do for you today, Miss Captain?"

"This might go without saying," Hina shot back, "but I'm here to arrest you for abuse of power, torture, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Plus, if I 'm lucky," she spit out her cigarette, "resisting arrest!"

Lafitte digested all this in silence, rocking back and forth in his seat while looking as though he were having trouble getting his head around the notion of someone confronting him.

"Is this a joke?" He sounded somewhat baffled.

His opponent shrugged off her cloak, letting it fall to the floor in a rustle of quality fabric.

"Hina serious."

"No chance we could talk this over privately?" He offered her a saucy wink, which she ignored in favor of donning a pair of well-worn leather gloves.

"Hina uninterested."

At this he leapt upright. His head reached well over her own, and from this vantage Lafitte gazed down cheerfully at her stoic defiance.

"My, but you have a cute way of talking! Can I ask your name?"

"Drop the weapon." Hina indicated the club dangling from a strap on his wrist. "You're completely surrounded, not to mention outmatched."

The ghoulish lieutenant cocked his head quizzically. "Is that so?"

He then reached out and placed a hand against the door, resting his weight on it in a casual posture which only emphasized the renewed howls that accompanied this act.

"Would you care to dance?" he grinned at her, his toes tapping out a rhythm in time to the gang leader's frenzied screams.

Between one click and the next a black-shod foot lashed straight for her skull.

_Damn, he's fast,_ Hina thought, even as her trained muscles reacted to bring an arm up to block the attack.

The strength of the blow proved greater than she had expected considering his spindly frame, and the valiant seadog actually flew away as easily as the man she had kicked earlier. Hina landed in a crouch, rising with a newfound appreciation for this fighter's talents.

As for Lafitte, she assumed he had something of the same reaction in regards to her, judging by the shock evident in his face at finding a black iron bar wrapped around his thigh.

Observing his dismay at her powers, the Cage Woman began to walk slowly towards the sadistic lawman once again. As she did, Lafitte jumped back a pace, lifted his unhindered leg and kicked the boy still whimpering on the ground. His blow sent that tiny frame soaring through the air straight at Hina. She caught the pickpocket, pausing only long enough to settle him back on the ground with a Devil-Fruit constraint wound securely around his small body for good measure. During this time her quarry had escaped through the side door, and the captain sprang in pursuit.

The portal proved to lead into a rundown galley with cobwebs everywhere. Hina spied Lafitte bounding out of sight up a flight of stairs, his gait hindered by her Ori-Ori no Mi shackle.

You won't get away, she promised herself, and took off after him.

Judging by the staircase's length, it led to the top of this building. If he meant to escape along the rooftops, he had a nasty surprise in store for him, in the form of her personal soldiers.

There was the sound of a brief struggle up above, and a shot was fired. Hina grinned in anticipation. That'll show him.

Her grin faltered, however, when she emerged into the daylight to find eight of her men lying senseless around the door. Casting about, she felt her good mood evaporate. The prisoner had apparently disappeared.

"Captain, look!"

A cry from one of the men posted atop another building drew her attention. She saw several of them pointing upwards, and when Hina directed her gaze in that direction, it was to find another surprise in store for her.

Lafitte was now airborne, courtesy of a pair of white wings where his arms had once been. The speed of his flight, combined with some impressive aerial maneuvering, made any shots fired at him go wide of their mark. Ascending high into the heavens, the renegade police officer seemed to be making good on his escape.

Let's compare who has the better ability, Bird-Man of Laca Traz.

With that she brought her arms back, and then sent them snapping forward.

"Boomerang Bandolier!"

Two long black arcs shot from Hina's limbs, soaring with unerring accuracy towards her erstwhile comrade. She saw Lafitte's head come around in response to her shout. He banked to one side, avoiding one of the soaring missiles. The next one came closer, but this too he dodged without falling victim to its touch. Even from this distance, the smile he cast down at her was evident.

Too bad you're looking in the wrong direction. Should've listened to the name of that attack better.

Hina triumphant.

Even as she thought this, both of the spinning bands turned in midair and streaked towards the winged escapee. There wasn't even enough time for Lafitte to turn his head before one of them encircled his upper body, pinning his wings to his sides.

He plummeted earthward without a sound.

Hina proceeded towards the edge of the roof at a leisurely pace. A few seconds later, she heard his body striking the pavement below. When she finally reached a better viewpoint, it was to see Lafitte lying crumpled in the middle of the street. Several of her men were already moving in to apprehend the disgraced policeman. Meanwhile, a large crowd of people was gathering at the sight of his fall.

When the Marines hoisted the bound and bleeding but clearly alive captive to his feet, a fierce roar came from the mob, and they surged forward, intent on finishing the job, it would seem.

They never got the opportunity, as the Captain leapt down from her perch. As soon as her feet touched earth, she sent black shafts shooting into the street to emerge in a barred dome around Lafitte and her crew. The irate citizens collided with this impassable barrier. Their rancor could now only be expressed through shouts and threats, which proved to be of little combat merit when the remaining Black Cage members moved in and proceeded to disperse them.

Once the rowdier ones had been moved to a safe distance, Hina dropped her protective enclosure and moved to join her colleagues.

"Beautiful job, Captain," a senior trooper commented. She offered him a nod in response before turning her attention to the caged bird. His arms were back to normal, and he was clearly injured by the fall, but it didn't pay to take chances. With that, she swiftly bound his legs at the ankles in another unbreakable circle of Devil-Fruit steel.

When she was finished, Hina locked eyes with the brutal law enforcement agent.

To her displeasure, she found that his lips were still stretched in a smirk.

"You would've been better off if the rabble did me in," Lafitte spoke softly, cracking a bloody smile her way. "Take my word for it. You'll regret letting me live."

"Hina forewarned."

With that she spun on her heel and led them off to the stockade.

* * *

After she finished, other people came forth to offer testimony as to the indiscriminate viciousness exhibited by the defendant in the exercise of his duties on their island. The public defender put up a dispirited defense with only one or two character witnesses, but Hina got the distinct impression that even she wouldn't be too broken up about losing this particular legal battle. There was virtually no solid evidence against him, and no mention was made of any part he might have played in the disappearance of Cadet Buscott or anyone else. But with all these people coming forward, little doubt existed that former Lieutenant Lafitte would be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

Hina stayed through the whole proceeding, and the entire time, she never got the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

_Click-tap-click-click-tap. Tappity-tap-tap-click._

Eventually both sides rested their cases, and the judge leaned forward to give his verdict without hesitation.

"Lafitte of Laca Traz." He sought out the remorseless prisoner and fixed eyes burning with righteous fire upon him. For his part, Lafitte responded back with a look of good-natured ambivalence. _Clickety-click_ went his polished dance shoes. "Having already been stripped of your title and its benefits, I will now pass further sentence upon you. For the crimes of assaulting a Marine officer…"

_Click-tap._

"…use of excessive and in some cases deadly force…"

_Tap-click-tap._

"… resisting arrest…"

_Tap._

"… and intimidating witnesses…"

_Tappity-tappity-tappity-tappity._

Hina leaned forward eagerly, along with the rest of those attending these proceedings.

"I do hereby find you to be…"

And Lafitte's heels came down together on the polished marble floor.

_CRACK!_

As he did, Judge Croplam's face went blank.

"Not… guilty."

A gasp tore through the spectators. Hina's jaw dropped.

WHAT?!

"For abuse of your authority, I do hereby banish you from the waters of West Blue. A Marine vessel will escort you under guard to a port of your choosing in any other sea," the magistrate intoned in a hollow voice. He then picked up his gavel and rapped it smartly on its pedestal. "Case closed. Moving on."

Shouts and cries went up all around her as people surged to their feet. For her part, the decorated naval officer remained where she sat, speechless at this turn of events.

How?! What on earth could have caused the judge to rule so egregiously in the face of all that evidence? Even the crimes that I personally attested to him committing! 'Miscarriage of justice' doesn't do this service! He ought to be…!

At this point, the bailiffs escorted Lafitte out of the chamber. More court officers were brought in to prevent anyone from storming the floor in pursuit of his blood. Passing by where she sat, even through the press of irate people all around her, Hina caught a glimpse of that sneering vermin's profile, and she could have sworn that he looked her way for an instant.

The satisfaction in his gaze told her that it wasn't over between them. But she didn't need anyone else to tell her that. However he had managed to rig this trial, one thing was certain.

Justice would not be denied.

* * *

The Battle of Marineford rages around her ears, when Hina looks up to see the stuff of nightmares standing atop the remains of Marine Headquarters.

A gang of murderers. The most black-hearted criminals released from the unspeakable Sixth Floor of Impel Down, along with vicious cutthroats from across the world, all captained by a renegade Shichibukai who had turned on both pirates and Marines when it best suited him.

And behind that faithless monster stands one man with no criminal record to speak of.

In the stillness of the revelations that come afterwards, one phrase alone comes to mind.

'_You'll regret letting me live.'_

And she does. Now more than ever, she does.

Hina regrets.

_**FIN.**_


	6. A Chill in the Air

As warm hands caressed her body, Nico Robin closed her eyes with a grateful sigh.

Hot steam filled the private bathing chamber she had been gifted with. The beautiful woman reclined against the side of the tub, head nestled in her arms as those skillful fingers worked to ease out any tension that the bath hadn't already seen to. Her attendants scrubbed lavender shampoo lather through her inky tresses, after which a bucket of hot water was up-ended over her head. Robin's eyes smarted slightly from the suds, and instantly a wet towel appeared to wipe them clear.

She wished idly for a sponge bath, and as if by magic a loofah then rubbed languidly down the lady's graceful neck and clear to the base of her spine. This sensation combined with the skillful massage drew a gasp from her lips. Robin's back arched in pleasure. The pampered pirate sank back down with a moan, luxuriating in the experience. 'Luxuriate'. It even sounded wonderful. Any aches and soreness of the long coach ride were now a thing of the past, allowing her to feel rather pleased with her current position. The rocking of the ship she was in caused the water in the tub to slosh pleasantly back and forth, almost like a jacuzzi.

Being an idol certainly came with its perks.

Well, that's enough for now. No sense letting this go on too long or anyone listening in might think she was weird.

A wave of her hand, and the profusion of arms she had sprouted from the sides of the tub disappeared. Scrub brushes, hot oils and various soaps were returned to their rightful positions before those graceful limbs vanished in a fall of petals. One of the unforeseen benefits of the Hana-Hana Fruit: she was never without servants to indulge her if she so required. How else could a lady be assured of receiving a good rub-down without having to worry about being groped? Sometimes Robin didn't know how other women did without.

The genius archaeologist allowed herself to soak for another minute, idly lifting her long legs and splashing them in the water. She collected a handful of bubbles and blew them out. While some might call this behavior infantile, in truth Nico had never been permitted to engage in such antics when she was young. A harsh childhood hadn't allowed for much in the way of idle amusements. No doubt this was why she had been considered a serious and unlikeable girl long before becoming a Devil Fruit user. The intervening years had seen her grow in ways that would have left those wretched people she grew up with aghast, but Robin didn't care to speculate on whether they would have received her any more kindly as a result.

Her people were long dead. What they believed no longer mattered.

This line of thought left her feeling disturbed and no longer willing to waste any more time. Rising out of the bathtub, she snagged a purple towel and dried herself briskly, shaking out her shoulder-length hair as she did.

Reaching for a light blue velour bathrobe hanging on a hook, Robin paused to examine herself in the full-length mirror. The experience of being a slave in Tequila Wolf hadn't affected her physically to any noticeable degree. This was more than could be said for the majority of the workers she had seen there, that abused and hopeless population forced to obey the will of the Tenryūbito in the seemingly irrational construction of a bridge between islands.

No, instead of physical scars, the last few weeks had seen to wounds of a much more substantive nature.

The Strawhat Pirates had been scattered to the corners of the earth by the power of Bartholomew Kuma. After freeing herself from forced labor with the aid of the Revolutionary Army, Robin had been horrified to hear the news that not only had the Marines triumphed in their war against Whitebeard, but that her own captain Monkey D. Luffy had been forced to watch helplessly as his brother Ace was murdered before his very eyes.

As she slipped on the robe and knotted its ties, a dire scowl worked across her face. Many times in the past Robin had gone to sleep praying that upon awakening she would learn that Admiral Aokiji, the man she first knew as Kuzan on Ohara Island, had died in some gruesome accident or simply keeled over from a massive heart attack. Now she found herself imagining creative and vicious deaths for the other Admiral, Akainu, the one responsible for taking Firefist Ace's life. No doubt wherever he was right now, Luffy was suffering horribly from the trauma of that experience. Were it in her power, she would gladly rip the Admiral's heart from his chest, sauté it over a fire and serve the steaming organ to her captain stuffed in the mouth of Akainu's severed head. With takoyaki in his eye-sockets for later.

And to think Usopp once referred to her mind as a dark and frightening place. It was the world they lived in that was truly to be feared.

Robin tucked her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, grabbed the book she had been reading and exited the room. When she stepped outside, her escort started and sprang to attention as though he was a soldier on parade and she a general come to inspect him. The sight of this actually served to lift her spirits. One of the youngest men onboard this ship, he wore a hat shaped like a raccoon's head, in the style of this branch of the Revolutionary Army. He had expressed dismay when she insisted on referring to him as Tony, and Robin had made no attempt to relieve him of his confusion. It was a private joke. Almost certainly her crewmate Chopper would have gotten it.

Feeling rather mischievous now, the tall beauty placed a hand on her hip and regarded him with an appraising air.

"Were you listening at the door, Tony-kun?"

His face took on a bright pink shade. "Ma'am, I assure you I was not!"

She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off him. "So you didn't hear anything I was up to in there?"

Tony's head flew from side to side. He seemed bound and determined not to look at anything lower than her neck. "No, Ma'am!"

Robin favored him with a slow smile, drawing up the hood of her robe to cover her damp hair. "Well, if you did, I'd appreciate if you would keep it secret. It was a _very_ good bath."

With that Robin turned and made her way down the hall. Her guard stood frozen for a second before he seemed to recover his senses and hurried to follow.

A girl could get a big head the way these minions of chaos seemed to obey her every whim. Up until recently the shapely fugitive had been unaware of exactly how she was regarded by the opponents of the World Government. Finding herself to be an object of veneration in their eyes had come as a bit of a shock. To them, the people of Ohara had not been demons intent on destroying the world as the rest of the human populace believed, but valiant crusaders who had striven to unveil the truth of human history from the cloud of ignorance the World Government sought to perpetuate. And as the only surviving inhabitant of that fair isle, Robin had unwittingly become the standard-bearer for all who struggled against the very same tyranny that had cost her a home.

Now they were taking her to meet their supreme commander, the legendary terrorist Monkey D. Dragon, father to her own captain. At the very least it would make for an interesting discussion. While Luffy's grandfather had proven relatively benign, he was still ferociously violent enough to warrant respect even among Vice-Admirals in the Marines. A world-famous anarchist like Dragon would probably be even more memorable a confrontation.

The heroine and her guardian passed another pair of fighters coming down some stairs, both bundled up against the intense cold that reigned above deck in these icy southern waters. When they thought her out of earshot, one of the men whispered to his companion, "Smokin' hot!" He was certainly not referring to the way her skin fresh from the bath steamed in this cool air. Robin had very good reasons to not feel entirely comfortable among this crew. It wasn't just that they were diehard guerrillas intent on taking her to meet their supposedly demonic leader. It had more to do with the fact that she was the only woman on this ship of male sailors. Good thing Robin had eyes in the back of her head. Literally. Not to mention at least one meeting her escorts thought she was not in attendance for had actually included a number of Hana-Hana ears unobtrusively located throughout.

Knowledge was power. And while they seemed honest in their claims of having her best interests at heart, one could never be too careful. There was only one company of people on these seas where she truly would feel safe, and at their captain's orders, they were not to meet again for another two years. A lot could happen in that time. Robin only wished that when the day finally came, she would not grieve to learn of having lost any more friends.

Wherever you are, stay safe, Mugiwara Pirates.

At last they came to the cabin that had been reserved for her. It would be nice to slip into something more substantial than this eye-catching garment. There was also an oven in there to keep the air toasty warm, as well as a growing collection of books. No expense had been spared to see to her comfort during this voyage. Even if she didn't know precisely what fate had in store for her, Robin had to admit there might be more to enjoy on this trip than she had first realized. With that she reached out to grasp the door handle.

Standing behind her, Tony noticed when his charge gave a slight gasp and snatched her arm back as though burned.

"Robin-san?" he asked, suddenly wary. "Is anything wrong?"

She didn't answer right away, only stood staring straight ahead with wide eyes. One hand came up to cover her mouth. It looked like she was trying not to scream.

Just when the young warrior was certain there was something amiss, the raven-haired woman gave a laugh and turned back about. Her eyes were shining, and the smile hadn't left her face. Now Tony was thoroughly confused.

"I'm sorry, Tony-kun, I didn't mean to startle you. I just realized what it was I've been hankering for all day."

Robin crossed her arms over her midriff and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Despite his best efforts, Tony couldn't help but notice how these movements served to accentuate her chest, the luscious cleavage peaking out enticingly from the cross-fall of her robe.

Discipline took a back seat to another part of his brain, and while absorbed in certain erotic fantasies, he heard her cool voice say, "Would you run to the galley and ask the chef to whip me up some Coto Makassar? I really appreciate it, thank you so much, Tony-kun. Bye!"

Before he could think to respond she whipped open the door and stepped inside, shutting it swiftly in his face.

Blinking out of his reverie, Tony found himself somewhat at a loss. What did she just ask him for? Coot Macrosaur? The heck was that? Well, maybe the cook would know. He had best hurry and see to this task. His head still swimming, the ardent revolutionary stumbled down the hall, lost in a daze of unspeakable longing.

With her back pressed to the wooden frame, Nico Robin heard him depart. Only when his footsteps receded did she crumple.

Sliding down on legs suddenly gone limp and weak, before she could hit the floor Robin caught herself with a few arms that came out of the wood. Secure in the embrace of her powers, she pressed a hand to her breast, the racing of her heart acting as a reassurance that she was still alive.

It might be only my imagination. Just paranoia after everything that's happened recently. Wouldn't it be funny if that were true? Especially when Tony figures out I just sent him to get me a bowl of cow-intestine soup. That could start some ugly rumors about my eating habits. Good for a laugh, really. Of course, her only purpose had been to get the boy away before anything could happen to him. The longer he took getting back here the better.

Even if she wasn't alive when he did return.

Slumped in the short corridor that led to her quarters, Robin could see the pot-bellied stove in a corner of the room, hot coals glowing cherry-red through the door's grate. Her breath come out in a mist of frost. The cold penetrated down to the bones, leaving her shivering.

It was then she was certain what lay ahead.

I will not go in there showing weakness. I've faced this devil before, and come out alive every time. True I had friends watching out for me then, and this time…

No. I have to deal with this on my own. For the sake of everything I care for, I will see this through.

She came upright, her supporting appendages disappearing back into thin air. Robin stepped forward, taking it one step at a time. Her arms remained linked over her belly, hands clutching the sleeves of her gown in an attempt to keep them from trembling. Fear and cold together tried to rob her of any trace of dignity in the face of death. But this woman had suffered through far worse, and come what may, she was determined to meet her greatest enemy as the proud heir to Ohara's will.

A pirate doesn't let fear rule them. We are free.

And so she stepped into the cozy little cabin and looked around. A porthole that allowed soft pale light to stream in faintly illuminated the confines of this space. Robin had insisted on having a room with at least two means of escape from it, in accordance with her upbringing.

Books piled in boxes to keep them from sliding about. The stove continuing to put out heat that couldn't seem to reach any farther beyond its own confines. A desk for writing. All this she remembered being here when she left.

It was the figure lounging on her bed that served to rob the room of any warmth, whether literally or figuratively.

Even sitting, he was taller than her, and Robin boasted a considerably greater height than most women. This man made her look like a dwarf by comparison. He was slender, but to confuse this with a lack of strength would get you nowhere fast. There was power in those rangy limbs that could reduce human beings to shattered bits of meat. Dressed in a tailored white suit with a blue dress shirt and canary-yellow tie, he made Robin think of a certain bony acquaintance of hers. He even sported a stiff bush of dark hair to complete the impression. But Humming Brook, for all the fact that he was a living skeleton who preferred to wear black, was one of the most lively and jovial people she had ever met. This man of flesh and blood was more what she thought of when Robin pictured Death: icy, unknowable, and inhuman. He would kill without the slightest hesitation, then go ahead and save a life for reasons only he could know.

You were never very far from a cold grave when in the presence of Admiral Aokiji, the Blue Pheasant.

To be sure, at this present time, there was not much to indicate a threat. Slumped with his back against the wall, it seemed that one of the Marine's greatest powers had fallen fast asleep. His mouth hung slack. A sensory deprivation mask covered his eyes, and the sound of his deep, measured breathing was evident. Completely dead to the world.

Standing in that frigid meat locker, the woman's eye fell upon a small pen-knife resting on the desk. And she knew that all it would take was for her to muster the courage to quietly pick it up, cross the room and plunge the weapon into his jugular, the same way she had killed others in the past. Slit his throat while he slept and watch his lifeblood spew out to splash all over that absurdly white vest. The guy was such a narcoleptic he might never even wake up. Just die right there in her room, his tale finished at her hands, never again to pass judgment on those she loved. It was a fantasy so vivid Robin actually found her fingers reaching out towards that deadly implement on their own.

But that was all it was. A fantasy. She knew from experience that she could not kill this man.

Instead, Robin dropped the book she held so that it landed with a sharp smack on the table.

Aokiji came awake with a snort. For a moment he remained just sprawled there. Then one large hand slowly rose and lifted a corner of the eye-mask. A single weary eye blinked and focused on the image of Robin glaring at him silently. He watched her, as though still trying to equate this scene with whatever dream she had roused him from.

Then the Admiral pulled the mask off fully. Leaning forward, Aokiji rested his elbows on his knees and yawned. He smacked his lips a few times before finally letting his gaze settle on the lovely lady whose room he had entered uninvited. Half-open eyes returned her hostile stare without concern. There was no hint of emotion to be found in his face. They might have been strangers meeting for the first time, not lifelong enemies circling each other for the better part of twenty years.

Robin made no move to speak. It was he who broke the silence at last.

"Did you know I was here?"

She nodded.

"I wasn't snoring, was I?"

There was no way to tell if he was teasing her or not. With him, you never knew. It made Robin furious. "The handle of the door was freezing. There was frost on it too. Even in these climes, it was colder than it had any right to be, inside the ship and with a fire going right behind the door. That's how I knew."

"Huh," Aokiji grunted. His eyes slipped closed, and his head sagged on that broad neck, as though the experience of listening to her answer had exhausted him. Then he gave another jaw-cracking yawn, just as quiet as the first, and seemed to at last come fully awake. When he regarded her now, the Ice Man finally noticed the state of her dress, standing there in a flimsy robe with damp hair and skin still steaming from the bath. Those deep bistre eyes widened briefly in a sort of lazy mortification.

"Ararara. I'm sorry, I came at a bad time, didn't I? You're not even dressed. You'll have to forgive me, it was quite a long ride getting here, and I didn't want to attract attention by staying overlong."

"Then let's make this brief. What do you want from me?"

His eyebrows rose in what might have been surprise. "Don't you want to put something else on? I know it can get a bit chilly near me. I'll wait outside if you like."

"Outside where anyone can see you? I'm not going to get others involved in this. Now answer the question please."

The perennially lazy Marine officer dropped his chin into one hand, chewing his cheek.

"I came to ask for your help."

For all the air of nonchalance, those words took Nico Robin's breath away. Considering recent events, it wasn't unreasonable to have found he was here to kill her. But to ask for her help…?

"Admiral Aokiji, are you drunk?"

It would certainly explain a few things. But instead he shook his head. "No. Maybe I should explain. I assume you read the papers?"

"I did." Robin's own tone was as chilly as the room, despite the fact that she was still trembling violently. "You and your fellow butchers killed a young man for no greater reason than you were afraid of his father's name. Then you tried to do the same thing to my captain. You'll need a lot of explaining to get from there to me helping you."

The sleepy giant tapped a rhythmic finger against his cheek. "This isn't an official visit, so you know. I decided to seek you out on my own. The World Government and the Marines still don't know where you are."

"What about the rest of my friends?" Perhaps it was foolish to ask for any form of comfort from him, but she just couldn't resist.

"They've disappeared, along with their captain. We haven't seen hide nor hair of them since Saobody Archipelago. You were the first to pop up on my radar, and that was just a fluke. I heard that the Great Bridge construction had stalled for the first time in 700 years. Considering how every outfit you've ever joined wound up disintegrating, I thought it might be worth looking into myself. And here you are."

She gave him a look equal parts anger and amazement. "_That's _the reasoning you went by to bring you here?"

"Eh?" He looked confused. "Why not?"

"It's completely based on your perceived opinion, with no foundation in reason at all!"

The Admiral only gave a shrug. "But it's true, isn't it? All your previous teams have been destroyed. Baroque Works, numerous pirate crews, including the Strawhats…"

Robin stiffened.

"… even the invincible CP-9 fell apart only a few days after blackmailing you into cooperating with them. Maybe it is just my opinion, but I'm sure you can see why I've come to hold it."

"QUIET!"

She was itching to sprout a pair of arms from his shoulders and snap his neck with a sudden violent twist. The accusation of Robin having done harm to the only people to care about her in her entire adult life hurt enough to make it worth the risk, even knowing her power couldn't match his.

Robin liked to think she had herself under control and needn't fear reacting foolishly. But really, it had less to do with herself and more to do with the way he looked at her right then. Cold as frostbite, and deadly serious. His expression defined that saying in spades.

As she watched, he turned his head and exhaled softly. In response, a plume of frost issued from his mouth and snaked in white tendrils across the cabin. Robin stared in morbid fascination as it reached the stove and slipped through the vents in the door. Seconds later, there was a hissing sound, and the hot coals within were extinguished, robbed of all heat and warmth. The room grew even darker as a result.

Like she needed a reminder of how easily he could snuff her out.

"I'm sorry if I upset you." Aokiji's voice said what his face did not, but he made no further moves against her. "My coming here has to do with a desire to keep the world from breaking down any further than it already has."

"Really?" Robin whispered, feeling her teeth start to chatter and clamping down firmly to keep her jaw set. "I would think you and your masters would be very pleased with the state of affairs right now. Aren't you all still flying high from finally overcoming Whitebeard?"

And the expressionless face actually creased in a grimace.

"Some of us are, but that doesn't make our position any less perilous from what I can see. You're a smart girl, Nico Robin, you must have seen the reality of our situation. The Marines lost a great deal of our finest recruits in the Whitebeard War. Don't spread it around, but Fleet Admiral Sengoku is stepping down from active service. Not only that, the Shichibukai ranks are down by half, less if you don't count the Pirate Empress, who never cooperates with us to begin with. Plus the Whitebeard Pirates themselves are still on the loose."

"Even with Newgate himself dead, our job is that much harder. His territories and the citizens who live there are now targets for the three remaining Yonkou, as well as any arrogant misfits who might feel like taking advantage of their loss of protection. That's a lot of new ground for us to cover with far fewer men. Our reputation is sky-high now, but the reality doesn't back it up. The Marines are actually weaker as a result of our victory, regardless of how great that victory seems. And lest I forget, we've got a brand new world-destroying threat in the form of Blackbeard, to say nothing of the monsters he broke out of Impel Down."

That last part came as something of a surprise. "So Impel Down _was_ breached."

He stopped short, mouth hanging open. Then Aokiji hung his head with a sigh. "Ararara. I've said too much. Nobody's supposed to know about that." His wintery eyes flicked up to meet her own. "Well, I guess it's too late now. I had hoped to work up to this. Your friend Captain Monkey D. Luffy did break into the Underwater Gaol looking to rescue Ace. He let loose most of the prisoners, and then Blackbeard waltzed right in on top of that and either killed or freed the strongest of that bunch. Pizzaro, Bosco Shot, heck, even Crocodile is back out in the world."

At the mention of that name, Robin's heart started racing. _Crocodile! _The man she betrayed to keep him from gaining control of the unstoppable battleship Pluton he so fiercely desired. Luffy defeated him and saved her life in the process, but now he was free. A dry death as merciless as the icy one that Aokiji represented once more swept across the face of the globe. That made two sinister Logia-magicians at large with a personal interest in the knowledge only she possessed. Suddenly Robin could smell the cigar that wicked ex-Shichibukai always used to smoke, mixed with the heavy scent of the pomade he put in his hair. She remembered the way he had looked at her sometimes, like the only thing preventing him from pulling Robin to him and kissing her with the fiercest of desire was the realization that it would cost him her cooperation in pursuit of his goal.

A sharp stab of pain sprouted in her lower back from where he had impaled her, and Robin shuddered not from cold, but at the thought of seeing those flat reptilian eyes coming at her once again, his cruel laughter ringing in her ears.

Wait a minute…

Knowledge only I possess.

Yes, I get it now. I understand what he wants.

Coming down from this epiphany, she felt a smile come to her lips, and the sultry pirate looked at the looming Admiral with something like triumph.

"So that's what you need my help with."

He gazed at her right back, face and body betraying nothing. But there was no need for him to give confirmation. Only one thing could have brought him to her at this specific time.

"You're right, Kuzan." Robin felt a thrill of fear at speaking his real name, but that frigid foe gave no indication of being irritated at the familiarity. "The Marines are in a very bad spot right now, aren't they? There are far more dangerous young pirates cropping up nowadays than there are powerful Marines who can handle them. The Eleven Supernovae are just the tip of the iceberg."

He didn't smile at the pun. A giddy rush of power let the young woman forget how cold she was right now. Like she was holding the cards for once in their relationship. It was a feeling as foreign as it was misleading, and she didn't buy it for a second.

"With so many powerful enemies arrayed against them, just three Admirals doesn't seem like much anymore. You people can only be in so many places, after all. And you're just monstrous, not legendary. Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp is retiring, am I right? I doubt he'd care to stick around with the lowlifes who killed his adoptive grandson. And Sengoku is gone as well. That leaves a rather big hole to plug. It's starting to look like you might have thrown in with the losing crowd. All the lives you've taken on orders, the _friends…"_ she emphasized that word specifically, "… you've lost, and it all might come to no end. The flames of revolution and piracy could overtake the world. Not just far in the future, but soon, in your lifetime, even. That can't be something a powerful man like you would be happy to hear."

Taking a seat at the desk, the triumphant temptress crossed her bare legs and smiled gamely at him. "So you decided to go for the big guns. Your ace-in-the-hole, the one you've been keeping in reserve for twenty years in case things started to go sour."

Lifting a finger, she pointed right at her chest, between her breasts.

"Me."

It might have been her imagination, but Robin thought she caught a flicker of hunger on that ice sculpture of a face. It was both thrilling and horrifying. She soldiered on regardless.

"That's the other reason you've let me live this long, am I right? Because I alone have access to the same thing Crocodile knew could be used to smash any opponent, even the Marines and the World Government. Might as well come out and say it, Admiral. You're here because you want to find Pluton."

Aokiji rubbed an eye tiredly.

"Yes. Will you give it to me?"

There was silence in the room after that. The two of them watched one another closely.

Robin started to flip the pages of the nearest book at hand.

"Why would I do anything so irresponsible as that?"

He bent in a little closer, his mere presence engulfing her in a frozen cage. "Sengoku's recommended me as his successor, from what I hear. If it happens, I'll be able to work things out in favor of your crew. I could get the bounties on them rescinded. They'd be free to live ordinary lives without fear of being hunted by anyone."

"Ordinary lives?" Robin couldn't help but grin, though she had to wonder if her lips were turning blue by this point. "Not a one of them is interested in such a thing. Even if you did forgive them all their past crimes, in no time they'd be guilty of new ones. And it's not for the reason you might think."

She stood up then, facing him eye-to-eye.

"We're not your enemies for fortune or fame, Kuzan, but because you've chosen to defend something that feels the need to call us evil. If we've broken any laws, then maybe instead of condemning us for it, you should question the worth of those laws to begin with."

The bland way he looked at her was all the answer she needed to that statement. It made Robin chuckle as much as she could with each breath now an icicle in her throat.

"But who am I to tell you what to do, right? The mighty Aokiji needn't concern himself with the beliefs of puny mortals who have to fear death at every turn." She tilted her head, considering him scornfully. "Actually, you remind me a great deal of another Logia-user I met on Sky Island. He acted like a god too, passing judgment on others without consideration for their lives, only for what he felt was just. It seems to be a common failing of the breed, always thinking they should have a say in how everyone else lives. I have to wonder if people like you even recognize how truly inhuman you've become!"

"You're getting pretty riled up, I see." And the man-shaped blizzard lifted off the bed. His shoulder-blades brushed the ceiling, causing him to hunch over her now in an oddly disturbing way. He looked more like an animal as a result. For all that she had questioned his humanity moments past, Robin was unnerved by the sight. "Like I said, I didn't come here to antagonize you. I just wanted to see if you might be convinced to give me an easy solution to my problems. Otherwise the next few years are going to be a real hassle for me."

His hand lifted up, and Robin flinched.

"I guess I shouldn't have bothered. You're not going to tell me where Pluton can be found, are you?"

She didn't hesitate to respond, even knowing he might freeze her blood as a result.

"Never."

That hand of his held the power to kill everyone aboard this ship. It hung over her like a guillotine blade waiting to drop. Rather than touching her, however, instead he just rubbed the back of his head.

"Too bad." Aokiji sighed and studied her from his superior height. Then he gave a rueful shrug. "Well, that's really the only reason I stopped by. I guess you'll be wanting to get back to travelling with these new friends of yours now."

"Would you have a problem with that?" she countered.

"Only if I thought they would have greater success in convincing you to part with your secret than me. And I don't. So it really makes no difference."

Arrogant bastard. As if once he dismissed you then there was no cause for concern whatsoever. It made her seethe when really she knew she should feel grateful to still be alive.

Just like that it seemed as though their weird conference had ended. The Admiral turned around and opened the small porthole leading outside. He looked back over his shoulder and threw her a languid wave. "Goodbye, then, Nico Robin."

It seemed impossible that after what he had asked from her they should leave it at that. Perhaps it was this that caused the daring archaeologist to speak up then in spite of any common sense.

"Kuzan."

He paused in the process of leaving. "Yes?"

This was something Robin really felt needed to be said.

"You believe in recognizing patterns in people's behavior. Here's one you might have missed. My captain has met all three Admirals now. Each of you tried to kill him, and none of you succeeded. Since Ace is dead, he has a real reason to hate you. Next time you see Monkey D. Luffy, don't be surprised if it ends badly for you. The Will of D is on the move once more."

Aokiji didn't even bother to look at her.

"I'll be around 'til then," he murmured.

As Robin watched, the man's whole body abruptly turned into ice. A shiver went up that gangly frame, and then the living icicle broke apart into a collection of tiny snow crystals that danced aimlessly about the room. They refracted rainbow light all around her in an undeniably beautiful display. For just a second Robin forgot how cold it really was, enchanted by that alluring forest of twinkling diamond stars.

Then the winter spectacle rushed out the porthole in a soft whisper. Warily Nico followed and looked outside. The sky was a dark gray high above, while on the choppy blue sea below, she caught a glimpse of a figure riding a bicycle across the waves. The ship went sailing on its course, and in no time at all, that incongruous sight was lost to her vision.

Closing the window, the tired young woman drew the blinds and sat down on the bed. Bringing her knees to her chest, she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to stimulate circulation in the wake of the Ice Man's passing.

Eventually a knock came on her door, causing Robin to start.

"Robin-san?" a voice called from without. "I got that dish you wanted! Shall I… leave it here for you?"

It took her a while to remember anything that resembled real human warmth. When she did, the former assassin got up and went to the door. Opening it, she saw Tony standing outside. He took a deep breath upon viewing her and offered up a tray.

"Here you go! Croutons and _mamaglia_, just like you asked!"

Hot coffee steamed invitingly in a glass press, and the kid had even gone to the trouble of putting a flower in a vase for her. The sweetness of the act did a great deal towards dispelling the deadly chill that had settled in her stomach. Honestly, that nickname suited him better than she thought.

Impulsively, Robin reached up and took his face in both hands. He flinched, probably at how cold her fingers were, but then his eyes took on a look of vapid bliss.

"Thank you, Tony-kun," she whispered gratefully.

Another pair of arms sprouted from her waist and took the tray from him. Tony hardly seemed to notice, lost as he was in the unexpected contact. With that she stepped backward and closed the door on him gently.

A pat of fresh butter was melting atop the cornmeal _mamaglia, _while the large croutons fairly glistened with oil and herbs. All this was deposited on her desk as she took her seat before it. Feeling suddenly ravenous, she had to hold back from digging in. First Robin picked up the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. She wrapped her hands around the smooth ceramic mug and let blessed heat transfer over into her frozen digits. Behind her, several extra pairs of arms were busily relighting the oven. Flint was struck, kindling took light, and soon a cheerful fire was crackling in the hearth.

Robin took a sip of the nourishing beverage. It was so hot it almost burned her mouth, but she proceeded to drain it regardless. The searing liquid coursed down her throat and settled in her stomach, warming her insides. Somewhat more at ease, she pondered this latest turn of events.

Aokiji probably wouldn't expose her location to the World Government, nor would he follow them to learn the revolutionary leader Dragon's whereabouts. Say what you will about him, he was honest in his intentions; that much, at the very least, you could count on from him. If the Admiral said he came only to seek her help, that was all there was to it. So for the time being she and everyone on this vessel was safe. As safe as one could be, with the world as your enemy, and only a handful of people you could truly trust.

Still, her old nemesis had given her something of worth. Thanks to him, she could be certain the other Strawhat pirates remained at large and conceivably safe as a result. In two years, there was no doubt they would all meet again.

Robin flushed happily at the thought. Taking a bite of her meal, she then flipped open her book again and began to brush up on the various means of performing assassinations.

Something told her she was definitely going to need it.

_**FIN**_


	7. LION?

The storm had finally passed.

While not a rare occurrence considering their location, tempests as ferocious as the one last night came along only rarely. The whole tribe had been forced to dismantle their homes and repair with them to underground storage rooms in order to stay safe. From there they viewed savage winds, deadly lightning and rain that pierced the ground like thorns. Thunder seemed to tear the very air with its cries. Many of the elders whispered at how there had not been a blow this terrible in generations. Even the disturbance that heralded the Monster's rise two years past could not compare.

As for Aisa, she had spent a sleepless night huddled up by the entrance to her shelter, anxiously waiting for the tumult to pass. Because afterwards, she knew this time nothing would stop her from reaching her prize.

* * *

The call of a Southbird echoed through its verdant forested home. Lone droplets of water pelted the ground in a soft background chorus, falling from the canopy roof that extended hundreds of feet overhead. Water glistened on the bark of enormous tree-trunks and collected in puddles on the ground. Everywhere was the queer calm that descended over nature only after a display of its most violent temperament.

A bare foot splashed into one of these puddles and disturbed its tranquil surface before passing on.

Aisa fled from her tribe's ancestral homeland. The six-year-old girl ran gasping through the rainforest, scaling up roots thicker than her body and sliding along muddy embankments down which water still flowed. Her fur tunic was covered in dirty splashes and her bare legs glistened with rain and mud. The cap she wore threatened to slide down over her eyes, and its shoulder-length cloth fringe whipped around whenever she turned her head. She thought about discarding the headdress, but feared leaving any evidence of her passing to lead those in pursuit.

Clutched securely beneath her arm, the leather satchel that contained her treasure remained secure. This she never considered abandoning for a moment.

After pausing to get her bearings, the girl took off in the direction of home, guided by an inborn talent she could not put a name to. This beacon acted not only to let her know which path led to safety, but also where could be found danger. The sacred land of Upper Yard was both prize and peril for those of her race. In its alien majesty there lurked astonishing beauty and deadly threats, something Aisa knew well from repeated excursions into that restricted area.

For centuries her people, the Shandian Tribe, had fought to reclaim this blessed soil from the interlopers that had wrested it from them in ages past. But as of late there were no actual military expeditions into the great forest. The threat of death had grown apace with the advent of the Monster, Enel. His evil power spelled certain doom to any warrior brave enough to risk setting foot off their adopted home of firm clouds and onto the rich brown tracts of Upper Yard. Only fools would court such a terrible end.

In Aisa's opinion, the only thing worse than a fool was a coward. She was resolved to be proven neither. And so time and again, the willful child risked death by venturing into this magnificent setting that flourished with life beyond anything that could be found in Skypiea.

Last night's storm had seemed like a perfect cover in which to undertake her covert entry. Always after such events, the security in Upper Yard was at its weakest. Even the servants of Enel wouldn't dare set out in those conditions. Like everyone else, they remained indoors where it was safe. The only one able to survive such weather was Enel himself, and he was well-known for preferring the lazy comforts of his grand palace over spending much time in the open. So she had resolved to penetrate the green ruins and return before anyone, ally or enemy, was aware of it.

In her mind, Aisa kept aware of the living creatures roaming about her. Whether they be beast or man, she remained as certain of their relative presence to her as if she could see every single one of them. This unexplained talent was what permitted her to succeed in these daring raids when anyone else would have surely failed. Unfortunately, while successfully claiming her prize, escape had not been as easy as one might have hoped. Avoiding wolf packs and one extremely big reptile was one thing. The fiends that pursued her now were undoubtedly human.

The Enforcers.

They had closed in on Aisa shortly after she succeeded in her efforts. Slipping away was proving trickier than usual, and she was beginning to get the unpleasant suspicion that they were using more than ears and eyes to track her. Could it be one of Enel's priests was with them, the ones supposedly able to hear a butterfly landing and capable of fighting off an entire army?

It wouldn't be good to find out. Flight was the only thing that mattered. She had a Burn Dial for self-defense, but Aisa preferred not to be in a situation where she had to resort to using it. There had to be a way to make her escape.

Another Southbird crooned, and this time she could have sworn a faint bleating came with it. The call of her hunters. They hadn't given up the chase. Would they risk following her all the way to the Shandians' village? Probably, if they had a priest with them. Suddenly Aisa was desperate to prevent anything like that from happening. She couldn't stand the thought of anyone dying as a result of her escapades. Wasn't there any way to lose these villains?

Suddenly a new presence came to the forefront of her thoughts, and with it came a plan. With that, the determined treasure-hunter took off to the left, following the sense of what she hoped would prove to be her salvation.

The Enforcers were closing in on her. This time, however, that was exactly what Aisa wanted. Let them come bounding in, certain of their victory against a lone fugitive. If she was right, those freaks would have a lot worse than her to deal with. Upper Yard wasn't only dangerous to children, after all.

At last her furious pace began to slow. Creeping slowly beneath the enormous boughs, Aisa focused on what her sixth-sense was telling her. Up ahead was a big animal of some kind. It was on the ground, so it probably wasn't a Southbird. And something of that size was bound to be dangerous. Whatever it was, it hadn't moved in a while, so she guessed it was probably asleep. If she could lure her trackers here and then rouse the great beast, maybe get it to attack them, then there was a good chance she could slip away in the confusion.

Heart hammering rapidly in her chest, the girl stole softly upon what turned out to be a small glade in the midst of the forest. Sun streamed down from a big hole in the canopy. This allowed her to finally see what had brought her this far.

Looking at it, Aisa was hard-pressed to thing of anything more peculiar.

The thing looked to be a big hairy… mound of some kind. It was as large as she had first thought, rising at least thrice as tall as her, and didn't appear to be moving. There seemed to be a great deal of yellow fur, and some weird striped skin. But other than that all bets were off about its provenance.

Curious now, forgetting momentarily the peril that led her here, Aisa crept a little closer to this unusual creature. Now she could hear a low liquid growl. _Gura-gura-gura_, it went. And again, _Gura-gura-gura. _With utmost wariness the child approached to within three feet and stopped, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

The mound-thing didn't move. It smelled funny, like wet fox mixed with something burning and almost sweet. That strange noise had stopped. What sort of animal was this?

A crashing off in the distance alerted her once again to the approaching danger. Aisa glanced behind, fearfully scanning the darkened woods for some sign of pursuit.

An instant later she caught a sense of movement, but not from far off.

It was right here.

Immediately the girl leapt backwards. Quick as she was, it wasn't quick enough. Something grabbed hold of her shirt front, and she let out a terrified wail.

"GAH!" a deep voice exclaimed.

Taken aback, Aisa opened her eyes, and found herself face to face with a man.

They peered at one another, both seemingly surprised to meet like this. Holding her securely, the fellow blinked, then his eyes widened in amazement.

"A gopher?" he gasped.

Surprised, Aisa stared right back. "What?"

"_Talking _gopher!"

And he dropped her abruptly. Scrambling away, the little adventurer put some space between them. Finding her feet and feeling somewhat frustrated by this treatment, she drew herself straight and loudly declared, "I'm a girl, not a go-fer!

"A girl?" he repeated. And then he rose up.

And up.

And up some more.

Aisa stared. 'Big' didn't describe it. She had never in her life seen a person this huge. The hand that had held her was enormous, capable of covering her whole body if splayed out. Even still sitting down, his head was well above the height she was used to having to crane her neck up at in order to see a regular adult's face. He must be as tall as a tent-pole when fully standing, and broader than three men lined up side by side. It reminded her of a fairy tale she heard from some of the more garrulous tribesmen about cannibal giants, enormous beanstalks, and a golden treasure that lurked at the top of that plant. Funny how they suddenly had all three right here in Upper Yard, that is if you counted the fabled City of Gold at the base of Giant Jack.

And that wasn't the weirdest part. She could now clearly discern this giant's appearance. What she had mistaken for skin was actually a large yellow and orange striped robe draped over his brawny shoulders, down which fell a mass of spiky yellow hair so long and thick he could have wrapped himself in it like a blanket. As if to make up for this, the top of his head was bald, and there looked to be… well, it could be horns, or a crest of some type. They didn't appear to be bone, though; more like wood. Was a tree growing out of his skull? It didn't look like he was in any discomfort as a result. His hands were tucked into the long black sleeves of his under-robe, and his legs remained folded beneath him in a pair of baggy orange trousers tied with a green sash, the same kind of dress Enforcers usually wore save for the color scheme.

This distinction made no negative impression on her. There was hardly a resemblance between those murderous savages and this person. The man's face was old, with bags under the eyes and deep wrinkles on his brow and around a cavernous mouth. He had a bushy clump of beard on his chin that grew into a thin dark moustache, and his skin was blotched around the temple with liver spots. Fierce black eyebrows formed lightning bolts over eyes that had now narrowed to little more than slits. His teeth were bared as he chewed slowly on what looked to be another stick tucked between his thick jaws.

Standing before that weird figure, Aisa found herself entranced by its alien qualities enough to ask without reservation, "What are you?"

At this he paused. Then the weirdo took the stick from his mouth and burst out laughing.

"JI-HA-HA-HAH!"

Returning the branch to its place, he flashed an enormous grin filled with teeth.

"What do you suppose I am, little girl?"

She scowled at him, for it was clear he was now mocking her. "Don't laugh at me, Tree-Head! What are you doing up here? Are you one of Enel's Enforcers?"

"Tree-Head?" The giant rubbed his jaw contemplatively. "_N-Eru?_ You're not making any sense, _imouto-chan. _Haven't you ever seen a pirate before?"

The word didn't mean anything to Aisa. She found herself reaching for the Burn Dial tucked into her tunic. Her new companion didn't seem to notice. Instead he was busily scanning their surroundings, twisting his great head from side to side.

"Where are we, then?" He scratched his scalp and yawned. "This doesn't look like Merveille."

As he said this, the man simply rose upright. Warily Aisa jumped back a step. She hadn't even detected him about to make a movement with her intuition. How did he do that? It was like he just floated… up…

This thought died as she finally noticed something. The crowning touch of bizarre sights to be seen on this 'pirate'.

He stood as tall as she had expected, if not taller. It would take three men standing on each others' shoulders to reach eye level with him. But this was not simply the result of any manner of growth spurt. When she looked down, the girl could clearly see that this man's legs were missing from halfway down his calves. Where there should have been feet, instead he was sporting a pair of long swords that stuck point-first into the ground. As Aisa watched, he pivoted about swiftly, moving with ease on his bladed prosthetics like they were a natural part of his body. It was stomach-churning, and at the same time somewhat fascinating. Was he born without feet? Were those weapons growing from there, or was he strapped in somehow? Could he kill a man with those things?

The pirate turned in a complete circle and came about to study her once again.

"What's your name, then, _imouto-chan?"_

This last surprise had left her too shocked to even be further suspicious. "Aisa," she whispered.

He gave a grunt, lifting his chin up proudly. "I'm Shiki. Shiki the Golden Lion! But you may address me as Shiki-sama."

At this point Shiki seemed to notice something that bothered him. Glowering down at the stick in his lips, he abruptly spat it out and then took to rummaging around in his coat. Coming up with a fresh one, he also withdrew a thin golden tube with an odd beast's head on top. After placing the stick between his teeth, he then brought the tube up, and with a small snap, a tiny burst of flame came from its metal jaws. While Aisa watched entranced, Shiki held this fire to the end of the stick. In no time it had caught ablaze. Now smoldering a bright cherry-red, he inhaled and blew out a wealth of smoke from his nostrils.

I get it, she suddenly realized. That thing's a pipe of some kind. Finally it made sense.

"So tell me this, Little Aisa," the looming pirate continued, "Just where are we now?"

The mystery of the stick being solved seemed to break the spell that had fallen upon her. Feeling much more clear-headed than a few moments past, she replied, "This is Upper Yard. It's the place where 'God' and his Enforcers live."

"Ah." Shiki blew out another stream of smoke, apparently ruminating on this.

"You're not from Skypiea," Aisa finally felt comfortable in stating, though she was still by no means at ease around this figure. "Just how did you come to be here?"

"I got blown about in the storm, I suppose." He gave a lazy wave of his hand. "It came on me out of nowhere while I was exploring. I couldn't control my altitude or even stay in one spot. The winds just whipped me around like I was no more than a leaf. So this is a sky island, you say? Doesn't really look like it." The tip of his short pipe glowed, and his brow furrowed dangerously. "Dolts! That last weather report I got wasn't worth shit. Got to keep an eye out for a crew with a truly competent navigator one of these days."

This explanation hardly served to settle things. "How…?"

"BLEAT!"

And it was only then she realized they were surrounded.

Spinning about, Aisa was horrified to see nearly a dozen white-robed Enforcers arrayed around them, hanging onto tree limbs or shuffling forward along the ground. Their gleaming horned heads were twisted with evil sneers, pendulous earlobes flapping at their throats. They clutched Dials which no doubt held the power to send forth vicious cuts at a command.

The girl found herself backing up fearfully towards where Shiki stood. Stupid stupid _stupid!_ Why had she let herself get delayed so long in talking to this messy foreigner? The whole point had been to use him to get away! Even after she realized he was a man, it might have been enough to throw off her pursuers if they mixed him up with her. And now it was too late. They were trapped, completely boxed in and hopelessly outnumbered.

Only maybe there was still a chance. Perhaps he could distract them long enough for her to make an escape. Regardless of where he came from, nobody was permitted to enter Upper Yard without Enel's permission, so they would naturally want to capture the pirate too. Shiki looked pretty tough in spite of his age. If all that size wasn't just for show…

"BILLY-GOATS?"

Aisa glanced over her shoulder to find the hairy giant gaping with wide eyes and slack jaw at their captors. She felt her hopes die. Well, so much for that plan. This guy is just too dumb.

"Ho, ho-hoooo!"

A hooting laugh was all the warning they got. Looking up, there came a glimpse of something large racing along one of the cloud-roads that snaked beneath the tree-tops. This solitary figure gave a leap as it approached, its Jet-ski Waver boots propelling it off to hang in midair for a time, and then came crashing down. The ground shook as the bulbous form landed.

"Tremble in fear, ignorant interlopers!" a high-pitched voice squealed. "Fatori, one of God's Chosen, has appeared to punish you!"

"A SNOWMAN?"

Aisa ignored her companion's further senseless comments. Overweight. That was the first thing that came to mind when looking at this new offender. In a white uniform much like all the others, he had a body that was round like the moon, with skinny arms and legs thrust out in a ridiculous pose. Other than this he looked much like the other Enforcers, save for the goggles covering his eyes and proportionately larger wings on his back. For all the sheer ridiculousness of his appearance, however, Aisa knew better than to discount this person as anything but dangerous. He was one of three lieutenants among the Enforcers, part of the quadruplet brothers of which one was actually a member of the inner circle of warrior-priests that served Enel directly. While this one didn't appear to be that priest, Fatori was clearly the leader of this hunting party, and undoubtedly the one that had been keeping track of her all this time. Aisa felt her dwindling hopes plummet.

And then she was lifted off the ground.

"Wings?"

Too surprised to cry out, the girl looked back in astonishment to see Shiki hoisting her up into the air, holding her by the small white wings that grew from her back until she hung right before him.

"Huh," Shiki murmured, tilting his head from side to side in intense examination. "These feathers aren't fake, are they? They're actually growing from your back." He then cast his gaze around at the mob of Skypieans, seemingly unaware of how much trouble they were in. "Even the billy-goats. You're all sporting wings. What an odd evolution."

Fear. Despair. Remorse. All of that took a backseat to simple, honest outrage.

"HEY!" she screamed, swinging her arms and legs futilely. "You stupid bush-brain! What are you doing picking me up like that? Can't you see that we're in trouble here?"

"Indeed you are, miserable creature!" Fatori pronounced shrilly, springing almost gracefully into another absurd stance. "For trespassing on God's own territory, you are to be…!"

"Eh?" Shiki mumbled, turning his head. Of a sudden his eyes popped out once more. "B-BILLY-GOATS?"

"THEY'RE MEN, YOU MORON!" And Aisa swung a bare leg to crack him firmly in the jaw.

His head spun about, and Shiki gave a snort. He came slowly back to regard her, and at the look on his face, Aisa quailed, for now he seemed to have become truly angry.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, KICKING ME LIKE THAT, YOU LITTLE BRAT?"

"I DID IT BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING STUPID!" she shot back, not caring now who wound up killing her. "CAN'T YOU SEE THESE GUYS ARE HERE TO KILL US?"

Fatori was looking about uncertainly at his henchmen, none of whom seemed to know how to respond to this. He cleared his throat and began again. "Ah, as I was saying… You have stolen the treasure that belongs to God only, and therefore in His name we shall punish…!"

"THAT'S NO EXCUSE FOR POOR BEHAVIOR! CHILDREN SHOULD RESPECT THEIR ELDERS, ESPECIALLY PIRATES! WHAT ARE THEY TEACHING YOU PUNKS THESE DAYS?"

"HOW TO TELL WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET SLAUGHTERED, THAT'S WHAT! OR DIDN'T YOU NOTICE THEY HAVE US SURROUNDED?"

"Eh?" Shiki quieted down, finally noticing the hostile army crowding around them. Encased in fine wrinkles, his pale jade eyes glistened faintly. "Surrounded? You mean by this puny lot?"

"That is right!" the roly-poly lieutenant declared. "Surrender yourselves, or prepare to face the wrath of the Almighty Go-!"

Then Aisa was falling to the ground, and there was a flash of amber light, immediately followed by an explosion. Instinctively she covered her head with her hands and shut her eyes. For all the good that did. In her mind's-eye, several of the goat-men went soaring through the air, and others fell shrieking from their perch in the trees. All landed in broken twitching heaps on the forest floor, staining the soil with their blood.

Was that a thunderbolt? Had Enel decided to participate in this massacre after all? If so, his aim could use some work.

She then heard a derisive snort from overhead.

"There's the way out. As if trash like this could ever pose a threat to me."

Aisa glanced up to see Shiki puffing calmly on his funny pipe. His eyes flicked down to meet hers.

"Now, then, _imouto-chan. _What's this about a treasure I hear?"

Knocked flat on his bloated behind by the force of the explosion, Fatori sat gawking and trembling along with the rest of his goons. Then, as if becoming aware of their situation, he rolled himself upright and landed on his feet. "Slay the interlopers!" he keened, whipping out an Axe Dial. The others followed suit.

"LOOK OUT!" Aisa cried, and rolled to one side, attempting to make herself a moving target. She didn't see if Shiki took her advice before the destructive Dials sent savage cuts slicing through the air. Instead she was up and running through the hole in the cage of men that he must have somehow blown open. No one stood to thwart her path, and no attacks came from this direction.

Glancing back, the desperate cloud-dweller hoped fervently to find her rescuer following her, or at least unharmed.

I must be seeing things, Aisa thought.

To her gaze, it looked as though where the giant golden pirate had stood there was now a winding profusion of brown snakes sprouting from the ground, moving and twisting about to encircle his form. Inside that protective pillar of earthen vines could be seen a blur of motion, as long saber-legs lashed out to send forth yellow flashes of light streaking in all directions, laying waste to everything around them. The entire forest shook from the resulting explosions. Trees of immense girth began to slide sideways, seemingly cut in half as a result of those beams. The shrieks of their attackers could only barely be heard over this cacophony.

It wasn't anything she could see or hear that caused the Shandian to race headlong from that battle. It was the intangible feeling inside her head. About her, birds took flight in startled panic, and other earthbound animals were scampering away from the site of that devastation just as she was. But unlike them the girl knew, on an instinctive level, that somewhere back there men were dying, torn apart by a force that defied anything they had thought themselves prepared to face this day. Their last terrified howls echoed in her skull no matter how much distance she put between them.

He was killing them. And over it all, she had no trouble picking out the pirate's roaring laughter.

The sense of their horrific suffering proved too much. Of a sudden Aisa's running feet gave out, and she collapsed into the foliage. Curling up, sobbing and frightened, she waited for the slaughter to finally come to an end, clutching hands to her head while tears streaked her face.

"Make it stop," she whimpered to anyone who could hear or care. "Please make it stop!"

At last all was quiet. The fading echoes of carnage disappeared, leaving only the regular tranquil heartbeat of the forest to wrap around her.

Yet still she did not move.

Time passed.

Aisa opened her eyes and stood up. She looked all around. The sun was shining through gaps in the arbor, twinkling off droplets of water and making the area all around her glisten. It was so very peaceful here now. Of a sudden she felt utterly tired, and wanted nothing more than to go home.

Perhaps it was this exhaustion that prevented her from picking up on the large body moving upon her from behind.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and Aisa gasped. She tore free, but was restrained by the strap of the leather bag she wore, which was now clutched in the grip of her attacker.

Let go of the bag, and you'll be free. But _no! _She had gone through too much to get it! Instead Aisa spun about and grabbed the full sack with both hands, striving to pull it free. "Let GO!" the wild child screamed, half-mad with fear and desperation.

Before her, the blood-spattered Fatori snarled. He was ragged, pristine white robes now stained with sweat, muck and blood. The goggles had been knocked askew, allowing one piggy eye to peer forth, and it was wide and crazed beyond reason.

"Filthy… heretic!" he sobbed, and raised a fist to strike her.

The ground shook, and both combatants froze.

Without warning, the very soil of Upper Yard burst up around them. Aisa was flung back with a cry. She landed on a wet patch of grass. Immediately it was obvious she had lost her treasured sack, and with a howl the girl sprang up to continue their struggle.

Only to stop and stare in utter incomprehension. What kind of magic was this?

Fatori hadn't moved. Movement was impossible, considering that he was cocooned up to his chin in a smooth pillar of earth that hid his rotund form. Only his head and hands remained free, wiggling aimlessly. In one fist he still clutched Aisa's pack. The expression on his face was horrible to behold. He looked absolutely terrified, tears flowing down those red pudgy cheeks, snot gushing from his nose and wet gurgles emerging from between clenched teeth. Like a big fat baby, unable to so much as squeal. It made her shiver to see another human being reduced to this. Even an Enforcer didn't deserve to be so utterly unmanned.

There was the sound of someone taking a deep breath, and at first she thought it was Fatori. Then came the exhalation, and with it the sweet scent of burning tobacco.

Turning, she found the monstrous pirate Shiki standing calmly behind her, not a single scratch on him, still smirking hugely like this was all a game.

"Well?" he rumbled, breathing out a cloud of smoke, "Aren't you going to at least say 'Thank you', _imouto-chan?"_

She couldn't say it. Aisa actually found it hard to breathe, much less speak. Shiki didn't seem to mind.

"Don't worry about it, then. But regardless, I think I should be given a little treat for the trouble you've put me through today."

There was something nasty and disturbing in the way he looked at her then. One eye scrunched tight, while the other opened wide, like he was devouring her with it. That big ugly grin became positively feral as he took a step towards the helpless girl, and the only thing she could think was, _'He's going to eat me, like the giant in the fairy tale!'_

Her fears proved false. Instead Shiki moved past her, sharp metal feet sinking ever so slightly into the soil with every successive step until the warlord stood before his vainly struggling catch. Fatori was now enveloped in the giant's shadow, unable to take his eyes off him. "God…" the butterball gasped tearfully, "God will… punish you! He will send lightning… from on high, to strike you dead… you monster!"

This brought only a laugh from the unearthly magician holding him hostage. "Ah, I've got that covered." Reaching up, he rapped a huge knuckle against the wooden cockscomb sprouting from his bald pate. "As it turns out, this steering wheel happens to be made of mulberry wood. Don't you know the old legends? I can perform all the sacrilege I want, and God can't do a thing about it, since lightning never strikes that tree." Lifting his grinning face to heaven, Shiki chanted, "_Kuwabara kuwabara! _JI-HA-HA-HAH!"

Fatori seemed as lost as Aisa as to this statement. Not that it mattered if he understood anyway. There was no way for the half-buried man to resist when Shiki plucked the satchel from his trembling grip. However this action finally spurred the kid to remember her mission, and she rushed forward to plant herself before him, glowering up into that freaky face. "Give that BACK! It doesn't belong to you!"

Shiki only laughed. "This must be some treasure for you to risk speaking to me that way! Makes me anxious to see it. I just can't wait another second!"

With that, he yanked open the drawstrings and looked inside.

The surprise on his face was almost absurd. In no time at all, however, it swiftly melted into something much more dangerous.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Shiki roared. Thrusting one big fist into the sack, he rummaged around as if searching for something. At last he brought it back out.

Falling between his fingers was the precious substance known as Vearth.

"Dirt?" he gasped, eyes gone wide and facial muscles twitching madly. "You're telling me we've been fighting over a bag of worthless DIRT?"

He flung the sack away, and Aisa rushed over to snatch it up.

"Not WORTHLESS!" she snapped back, too angered by his sacrilege to care about offending him. "What are you talking about? This is Vearth! It's the rarest, most precious stuff in all Skypiea, found only in Upper Yard! We've been fighting all our lives to try and reclaim it!"

Shiki was staring at her, features twisting and jaws clenched so tight he looked ready to bite his pipe in two. For a moment she thought he was about to attack her. Then the huge man rounded on his helpless prisoner. "You were going to kill me, and that girl, over a bag of MUD?"

Fatori's teeth were chattering too hard for him to reply. Of a sudden the Golden Lion seemed to undergo an abrupt mood swing. Grinning down at him menacingly, he hefted the wad of dirt still held in his fist.

"You know, with that fat body and white suit, I almost mistook you for a snowman at first sight."

Without warning, the column of mud that encased the Enforcer abruptly changed shape, becoming a perfect sphere. Aisa's jaw dropped at further sight of this witchcraft. Was Shiki really responsible for this? As she regarded him warily, the old sorcerer gave a flick of his wrist, and before her astonished eyes the ground split open and disgorged a big chunk of soil which hung in the air.

Shiki looked at it as though nothing could be more natural, like floating Vearth happened every day. The handful he held suddenly flowed out to join that orb. Reaching forward, he flipped the goggles off Fatori's head and held them up to dangle loosely.

"I suppose you don't understand what I'm talking about, being a sky island native." And with that his voice took on a very nasty tone. "Let me show you what I mean."

The way he spoke, and the way Fatori's eyes filled with tears, left no doubt that something awful was about to happen. As if to confirm this, the hovering Vearth split in half like a coconut. It then floated over to dangle before the Enforcer's sweating face.

They both saw what was about to happen. _'NO!' _Aisa wanted to cry out in protest. But before she could…

Shiki made a gesture. Fatori managed to emit a single hoarse scream, right before the two halves snapped together, encasing his head in a round tomb of dirt.

Aisa turned and ran.

She could sense it as the Skypiean thrashed and squirmed ineffectually in his enchanted prison. He was being suffocated, choked on the very same substance she had fought so hard to gain. Their precious Vearth had been converted into a means of murder. It was unspeakably horrible, a perversion of the sacred promise contained in that cherished loam.

It was evil.

With a wail, Aisa flung away her bag, letting it go flying into the underbrush.

It didn't matter now. The only thing that made any sense was to get as far away from that monster as she possibly could.

Behind her, Shiki didn't seem to notice her absence. While the pudgy fingers that were the only visible sign of his prisoner were still twitching, he took the goggles and purposefully shoved them into the front of his newly-made dirtman's head.

The hands were starting to subside in their spasms. Removing his cigar, Shiki planted it right below the goggles to make a nose.

By the time he drew a happy smiling mouth in the dirt with his finger, all movement had ceased.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, the mini-Den-den Mushi in his robe began to vibrate again. _Gura-gura-gura. _Removing it, Shiki pressed the switch. "Hello?"

"Shiki-sama!" Dr. Indigo's scratchy voice came on, and the snail took on his beady-eyed features somewhat. "Thank goodness you're all right! What happened to you?"

"I got a little turned around by a cyclone," he responded, rummaging in his pockets for another cigar and coming up empty. Ah, what a waste. "Is the Island Ship near where I left it?"

"Yes, we managed to weather the storm. Would you like us to come to your location?"

"No." His gaze traveled down, focusing on an object lying off to one side. "I'll find you. There's something I have to take care of first."

"Roger, Captain."

Silence greeted this statement.

"Er… sorry, I meant… as you wish, Captain."

He flicked off the Snail-o-Phone and rose slowly up into the air along with a certain item, turning in the direction Aisa had fled.

* * *

At first Laki was furious when Aisa came stumbling back into the village. But when she saw the condition the little girl was in, her outrage swiftly changed to concern. It wasn't long before she had her cleaned up and resting comfortably on a pile of skins.

Aisa lay in the darkened tent for a time. The last few hours seemed like a nightmare now. Had she really met a giant, been chased by Enforcers? There wasn't even the bag of Vearth to lend credence to her story, and thus she decided not to tell anyone about it. With that, she finally slept.

Her dreams were dark and terrifying, and it was a relief when she came awake to what could only be the sound of laughter and merriment. What was this? Were they having a celebration? Nobody had mentioned anything about it to her.

Groggily Aisa rose and stumbled to the door of her tent. Upon raising the flap, she looked out to find it was nighttime, and that a party was indeed going on. Around the bonfire the shadows of warriors drew long as they leapt and danced. Woman shouted approving comments and played flutes or beat on drums. Food and drink flowed freely throughout this joyous scene.

The prospect of joining in held no appeal for her today. Just as she was turning back to her cot, the crowd parted slightly, and Aisa gave a gasp.

In the midst of all this revelry, not twenty feet away, there sat Shiki.

He was talking to the village chief at their place by the fire, laughing and drinking corn liquor from a large dish someone had placed before him. As the child stared in horror from her hiding place, she saw the Golden Lion drain his plate and hold it out to be refilled by one of the young maidens of the village, smirking in appreciation as he did so. Didn't he ever close his mouth?

Before she knew it Aisa was creeping towards the fire. She kept to the shadows, not daring to move quickly lest even her small form draw his attention, until at last she huddled against a collection of reed baskets behind them. From there she listened to what the two old men were saying.

Sitting next to Shiki, the chief looked no larger than a child by comparison. But he still behaved as nobly as ever. "I hope you enjoy it, Shiki-san. Though a mere pouch of tobacco hardly seems worth the gift you brought us."

"We all have things we value," the hulking menace boomed, actually sounding friendly as he did. "You've got fine weed here. It'll make some good cigars when I get back home."

"A whole ton of Vearth is more than our villagers have ever seen. It's amazing, to say the least."

Shiki nodded sagely. "Even with the trouble that walking on clouds presents to me, I was thinking about conquering this place, right up until I found out you people revere dirt. Who wants subjects like that?" He took a drag on a long wooden pipe and shook his head in disgust. "What's the world coming to these days, I ask you?"

Apparently the chief didn't know how to respond to this statement. Aisa noticed some of the younger warriors nearby frowning among themselves. Wiper in particular looked especially fierce, and Laki appeared troubled right beside him. She hoped neither of them called him out, but Shiki just settled back on his side and took another drink, resting his chin on his fist. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. One thing at a time, I say. There's a whole ocean of pirates out there waiting to be taught a lesson. But enough of such talk! For now, let us drink!"

The chief chuckled and took a puff on his own pipe. "The men of the Blue Sea are as remarkable now as ever. I remember another man much like you who visited us some twenty years past. He shared your lusty spirit."

"What was his name?" Shiki asked casually.

Their elderly leader blew out smoke and smiled at the sight of his people dancing. "He went by the name of Gol D. Roger."

He wasn't looking at their guest right then. But Aisa was. That was why she noticed when Shiki's head turned ever so slightly, allowing her to catch a glimpse of his profile.

The expression he wore was not a new one. It was the same snarling animalistic fury that had contorted his features as he held a bag of dirt in his hands.

A terrible foreboding wrapped around her heart. Of a sudden the laughter of her people was sounding like the bloodcurdling screams of the dying. The dancing light of the fire which painted everything an orange hue appeared to turn red, drenching their village the color of fresh hot blood. A cold wind blew across the clouds. She wanted to cry out a warning, get them all to see the beast they had welcomed unknowing into their midst, when just like that, the feeling passed.

Shiki turned his head away. "So," he murmured softly, staring down into the depths of his dish. "You're friends of Roger, eh?"

After a time, he slowly raised the saucer and took a long drink. Lowering it, the Flying Pirate gave a hearty sigh and stood up. "Well, I believe I must be going now."

"So soon?" The chief rose to stand beside his towering companion. "Won't you at least stay the night?"

"You've done more than enough to make an old man feel welcome," Shiki responded. Aisa noticed his sharp toes didn't really touch the soft white ground, only hovered a scant distance above. Had anyone else commented on that? "I must return to my crew and make sure they are doing well."

They spoke for a few minutes longer, exchanging compliments and promises of friendship. The whole time, Aisa didn't dare move a muscle. A few more people came to say their goodbyes. Then Shiki raised his arms to shoulder level and declared in a dramatic voice, "Now, stand back! Shiki the Flying Pirate needs room to make his exit."

The villagers obeyed, clearing a respectful distance around him. With his arms still held aloft, the golden-haired warrior looked about at their happy smiling faces. "It has been my greatest privilege to meet the noble Shandian people on this day."

"Let us meet again as friends, Shiki-san," the chief declared warmly.

"JI-HA-HA-HAH!" he laughed. "Rest assured, I shall return to you."

As he spoke, his gaze suddenly snapped around, and Aisa found herself staring into those mad green eyes. She froze, rigid in the shadows, and Shiki's grin grew even bigger.

"In about five years, once my goal is complete," he rumbled, continuing to stare at her, "I look forward to seeing you again." The pirate raised his hand in parting. "Fare thee well!"

And with that, Shiki shot straight up into the sky, his laughter fading even as his body disappeared into the all-consuming blackness.

Silence fell, the entire village down to the last child staring in absolute shock at the sight of that soaring figure dwindling into the distance.

Alone amongst them, Aisa remained quiet from dread and not wonder.

I hope he never comes back.

Something dropped down beside her, making her start. Turning, she saw the little sack of dirt that had been left behind in Upper Yard.

For all her bravery, she could not bring herself to touch it.

_**FIN.**_


	8. Grab Life By the Throat

"Makino-chan!"

The young woman in question stopped in the street and turned around.

"Yes, dear?"

Clustered behind her was a small knot of local children. One in the front, a lad named Kibo, was being pushed forward excitedly by those behind. When she looked at him, the little boy fisted his hands in his pant fabric and loudly blurted out, "I… I'M GONNA MARRY YOU!"

Before she could frame a response to his heartfelt declaration Kibo was already off and running down the street. His pack followed in hot pursuit, some of them crying out, "Wait, Kibo, you didn't let her answer!" and, "You gotta go back, you didn't say it right!"

Makino watched them retreat with a fond smile on her face. He wasn't the most self-assured of her admirers, but he was definitely the youngest. Tucking her long black hair back behind a colorful kerchief, she took up her burden and continued on. Already this latest escapade in her romantic life was drawing laughter and grins from the other villagers out this day.

"Oi, Makino-chan, when's the wedding?"

"Guess this means my boy Gustav will be disappointed!"

"MOM, don't SAY that, she'll HEAR you!"

"Will there be free drinks today to celebrate, Makino-chan?"

In response the proprietress of the local bar only smiled and waved before continuing on her way. This sort of thing was nothing new. While approaching twenty might be considered a milestone, in her case it would be just one more birthday. It was true that girls her age were most often married and settled down by this point. Here in the Kingdom of Goa there wasn't much more to do besides that. In her case, however, Makino had found a very satisfying and prosperous occupation early on. Running her own eating establishment gave her great joy and no small amount of personal pride. The local youths had been pining after her for a while now without a doubt. And maybe sometime in the future it would be a good idea to consider letting someone special into her life. For now, though, there were other things to keep abreast of besides matrimony.

On this glorious summer day in Fuusha Village, one could entertain idle thoughts like romance without being considered a daydreamer. Their small port town still experienced brisk trade, which also meant a steady stream of customers for her business. Naval ships and merchant craft alike dropped anchor down by the docks. Inevitably the weary sailors would gravitate towards Makino's place at the insistence of the townsfolk, where she happily served them their ale and rum along with dishes prepared according to time-honored fashion.

The travelers paid her not just in money, but with stories and rumors about what was happening in the wide world beyond their minor island in East Blue. Gregarious by nature, the dutiful barmaid was glad to hear them talk. From blustering young sailors to sea-wise Marines, they were all welcome to spread their tall tales and preposterous truths about what went on in those wide dark seas. She had heard stories of sea monsters big enough to swallow an island and lands where giants walked like ordinary men, as well as the fantastical powers exhibited by those souls who had been blessed and cursed by the Devil Fruit.

And of course, there was talk of pirates.

"Makino-chan!" a laundrywoman with a full basket on her head called out. "Have they stopped by yet?"

"No, not yet," she called back. "It was just a merchant ship, I went down to pick up some spices I ordered." She indicated the small wooden crate in her arms.

"Well, I should have known. Old Norland will keep a lookout and let us know if they're really coming today." They waved to one another and went off.

The reason behind this seemingly innocent discussion would have shocked anyone outside of Fuusha. A short while back word reached their locale that the infamous pirate ship _Dyed Red_ had been spotted once again in the waters of East Blue. That could only mean that the Red Haired Pirates had returned after a two-year absence. While other communities cowered in fear at the prospect, however, this particular hamlet hoped to once again welcome that band of good-natured marauders into their midst.

Makino considered the prospect as she approached her bar. It had seemed like forever since Shanks and his crew set sail back to their stomping grounds in the Grand Line. The chance to see him again was something she had looked forward to eagerly these last few weeks. If they did return, she would have to contact Luffy up on Mt. Corbo. The little rubber boy would never forgive her if he missed a chance to flock around his hero and personal savior. Some might label all pirates as wicked and dishonorable, but any man who would sacrifice his own arm to save a child was a credit to whatever profession he might choose. Garp wouldn't be thrilled when he found out, and no doubt Ace and Sabo would insist on tagging along. Still, you couldn't…

"Waddaya _mean_, NO?"

At this belligerent shout, her head came back to the present. That had come from inside her place. The lunchtime crowd had been dwindling when she stepped out for a bit. Apparently someone had taken advantage of her absence to get a little testy.

Let's see what the problem is.

It didn't take her long after entering to find out. Two teenage boys and a girl were perched on stools at the bar. The latter she didn't recognize, but the others were Bale and Eric. Not quite sixteen years old, they had a reputation around town for being rude troublemakers. One was tall and gangly with black hair that fell into his eyes, while the other kept his head shaved and liked to swagger around with a Jolly Roger bandana tied round his throat. The fact that they were here was no big news, but their place up at the bar could only mean one thing. They must have been watching for her to leave before coming in and trying to throw their weight around.

Positioned behind the counter with arms crossed over his chest, the waiter Robert stood stone-faced before the trio. Only a few other people remained eating their meals and watching the altercation curiously. They had spotted her arrival while the ones causing the ruckus clearly hadn't. Rather than rushing in, Makino took the time to evaluate this situation for a little longer.

Bale had his hands on the countertop and was leaning forward in an effort to be intimidating. "How do you know how old I am, crow-face? Did I tell you? Huh, did I?"

"Man, who do you think you are, talking to us like that?" Eric drawled in support of his friend. "You're just a broke loser scrubbing tables. So just do what we say and get us a round of drinks!"

"You're underage," Robert replied tersely, half-closed eyes exhibiting no distress. That was apparently all he had to say on the matter.

Bale looked over at the other two. "Can you believe this guy?" he groused, fingering the black flag at his throat.

"I thought you said you ran this town," the girl drawled in a mocking tone of voice. High-quality clothes and a cultured accent told Makino that she wasn't from around here. Probably just drifted in from the capitol on the other side of the island. The sort who was always looking for trouble, but not wanting to do it in her own backyard.

"Hey, Bale," Eric said. "Maybe we should teach him a lesson?"

"I think you're right." He turned back about. "You hear that, dork-boy?"

Their bravado didn't seem to have quite the desired effect. Robert had already turned away and was busying himself stacking glasses. He paid no more attention to the three malcontents.

Bale's face went dead with anger, and he slammed a hand loudly on the hardwood surface. "HEY! Don't turn your back on me, man! You come out from behind there! You and me are gonna go outside!"

When Robert continued to ignore him, the brash youth reached up and knocked the hairnet off her employee's head.

Well, that was more than enough.

"Boys," Makino announced calmly.

They spun about and froze upon seeing her standing in the doorway. She took her time strolling up to deposit the box on the side of the counter, casually dusting her hands off her long skirts. Robert picked it up and carried it back to the kitchen without saying a word. He seemed willing to let the boss handle this.

Her large black eyes didn't even bother to look at them when she spoke next. "You're _both_ going to go outside and stay out until you're invited back in. Your little friend too. And the next time you come here you can leave the attitudes at the door." Lifting the divider of the bartop, she stepped through and let it drop before finally turning to confront them. A cheerful grin lit her face. "Otherwise I'll have to call on your mothers and let them know what I think."

Her words had hit the mark. In moments the menacing toughs were reduced to shamefaced boys. Chagrined, they both looked away from the nineteen-year old woman smiling sweetly before them.

"Sorry, Makino-san," Bale muttered.

Eric echoed him. "Yeah, sorry."

Makino picked up a half-empty bowl of peanuts and dumped it out the window to feed the pigeons. She then opened a fresh can to refill it. "You heard me. Run along, now. I'll let you know when you're welcome back here."

Eric and Bale stood up and began to shuffle towards the exit. "C'mon, Tina," the skinny one mumbled. Their out-of-town temptress watched her cohorts in disgust. She stood up and spit, "Losers!" before stomping outside with the boys trailing in her wake trying desperately to salvage their reputations.

The person responsible for their humiliation continued to tend bar while humming to herself. All other patrons went back to their drinks and meals with contented smiles. Everybody in town with a lick of sense knew better than to get on Makino's bad side. She was a very popular public figure and not afraid to speak her mind on any issue. Being on good terms with most of the older villagers, she had a certain say in how daily life was run in these parts. And the children adored her. In the face of all that, even teenage hormones weren't enough to win the day.

Moving back into the kitchens bearing a stack of dirty dishes, Makino almost collided with Robert. "Everything all right?" she asked with concern.

In response he only finished slipping a new hairnet over his dark curls and rolled up his sleeves. "Yes, ma'am." With that he took the dishes from her before going over to the sink.

She sighed as he began to busy himself with cleaning. Though roughly the same age, Robert insisted on referring to her as 'ma'am'. He had arrived on the island a few months back looking for work. A self-described wandering poet, he claimed to have handled a variety of odd jobs on his travels in order to pay his way. While somewhat morose and certainly not what one would call talkative, he had proven himself a diligent worker, and that counted for more in Makino's book than sparkling personality.

Initially he had implied he only needed to work until he had enough to afford passage on a vessel heading to the next island. Robert was her only steady help at this time, and so Makino had offered him a generous wage in addition to whatever tips he might earn. By what she was paying him alone it should have already been enough to book a seat on any reputable ship. Yet here he stayed. The young man cut a mysterious figure in these parts. His aura of the 'brooding artist' had served to foster a good deal of rumors. A healthy build and leonine face earned her waiter his share of admirers amongst the girls in the community as well. To her knowledge he had never taken them up on a date, preferring to spend his time absorbed in composing poetry which he permitted no one to read.

Truth be told, she was starting to think his willingness to stay might be due to him having a crush on her. If so, Makino would just have to let him down easy. She had a lot of time left in which to find love. That wasn't in the cards for her right now.

The rest of the day went by without mishap. Fishermen came in around mid-afternoon in order to swap big fish stories and complain about the weather, in spite of it being beautiful. Too calm, they all muttered. A storm was brewing. All of them wanted to tug her ear regarding the big news, namely whether or not Shanks and company would be making an appearance. To their eager entreaties the beautiful barmaid could only reply back with guesses. She tried to keep from becoming infected by their air of excitement. But lately every time word came in about a ship being tied up, regardless of whether it flew a pirate flag or not, it made her heart race with anticipation.

By 6 o'clock things were starting to die down. The regular dinner mob had come and gone leaving only a few stragglers. It would be at least another hour before the late-night party bunch started trickling in, on the lookout for drinks and good company to share them with. Makino's pub stayed open late in order to make up for not serving any breakfast. This also meant she could sleep in to a reasonable degree. If she didn't own the place, the sort of effort you had to put into every day might make her come to despise this job. But there was no way she could hate the people who depended on her for food and a friendly atmosphere. You couldn't put a price tag on such things.

Still no word from Old Norland on spotting any pirate ships, Makino thought to herself as she and her help bused tables. Maybe tomorrow would hold better luck. Still, the Marines were getting more serious about patrolling this area recently. Several merchant ships had sunk in the past year under mysterious conditions. It was said they had simply run up against bad weather or unpredictable ocean currents. And that was certainly believable. This had been a season noticeable for its storms.

But another rumor hinted at a darker hand at work. It stated pirates were to blame, and not just any ordinary ruffians. A few years back a gang of fishmen supposedly came into East Blue by way of the Calm Belt, a route only oceanic beings such as them could contemplate safely. Their whereabouts were not well-known, but it was believed their leader was a survivor of the dreaded Sunny Pirates of the Grand Line and had already conquered an entire island for his personal use. Whether this was true or not, it did seem that the World Government was taking a closer look at any scallywags attempting to make a name for themselves in East Blue. With the likes of Captain Kuro and Don Krieg also committing misdeeds, one didn't travel the seas lightly nowadays.

Big old dangerous world out there. Still, some notable exceptions to the image of pirates as bloodthirsty killers did exist. In her youth there had been the Pirate King himself, Gold Roger. And now, of course, you had someone like…

The doors to outside flung open, and Makino looked up. A robust figure came striding in wearing a black cloak draped over his shoulders. A cowl covered his features, and loud laughter rang forth as this man was followed closely by three others, all looking the part of slightly bedraggled seafarers. They chose a spot near the door to sit and slumped tiredly in their seats, the one in the lead with his back to the room.

As she was about to start over to them, their leader reached up to flick off his hood, revealing a mass of wild red hair.

Makino almost cried out in joyful recognition. But at this point the man shifted so she could see his profile. By then she had already noticed the differences. For starters, this person was clearly shorter than Shanks. In addition, while he was sporting a scar over one eye, it cut a single line across his eyebrow and down his cheek. Also, it was on the wrong side. Followed up by this was the fact that, while his coat was still on, it didn't seem he was missing an arm. And for the final touch, his face didn't look at all like the one she remembered.

The disappointment this realization brought with it left her feeling rather foolish. I'm seeing things. Maybe this day was longer than I thought. As she was thinking this, one of the newcomers scanned around and raised his voice.

"Oi! Can we get some service over here?"

"Coming, sir!" their hostess called out, still feeling a little flustered. "Robert, would you…?"

Makino had intended to ask he take over her table while she went to take their order. Instead she found herself unable to complete that sentence.

Off by himself, Robert had turned his head to study the new customers. He was facing away from her, and she only caught a glimpse of his features before he moved off to greet them. But what she saw then rendered the woman completely paralyzed. The shock would not permit her to so much as breathe.

What had happened? For a moment there that gloomy unsmiling man she had come to depend on wasn't visible. In his place there had stood someone wearing the most disturbing grin you could ever imagine. It was… vicious, was the best word. Yes, vicious. And eager too. His black eyes narrowed even further than usual, sharpening and focusing in as if seeing someone he had been searching for his whole entire life. There was more animation to his face than she had ever thought possible from this moody young introvert.

Then it had passed, and as he walked towards the group his features settled back in that perfect mask of calm indifference.

She blinked, wondering at the oddness of the vision. Did I imagine that? Is my mind running away with me again? Sure, Robert's a little dark, but the look I just saw… didn't even seem human.

I'm just tired, Makino finally told herself. Tired and need to sit down, I've been on my feet most of the day. How ridiculous am I? Wake up, girl, you're suffering from a bout of nerves. First you're seeing Shanks, now this. Take a load off and you'll be fine. She slid back a chair and began to lower herself into it.

As she did, Makino's eye caught something else peculiar.

When Robert passed a table, his fingers flexed, and she could swear a steak knife disappeared off a plate and up his sleeve.

Now the breathless teen knew she had to say something. Anything. Call out, scream a warning, ask what was going on. There was no way she could keep quiet.

That's what she told herself. Instead Makino found she could do nothing but sit in that chair and watch dumbfounded at what took place before her.

Robert walked up to the table in the corner. He was as calm as when stacking plates or pouring out drinks. By no hitch in his step or twist of his shoulders did he betray himself in the slightest. All the same, he made not a sound. His shoes slid over the floor without the faintest hint of noise. And then he was upon them, hand coming up, rising. To kill, she knew, to tear the life out…

The red-haired man turned his head and looked over with a smile.

"Hey, son."

Robert paused as he looked at that face directly.

Then his hand fell back to his side. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I get for you today?"

"Two flagons of grog for my mates here, a pint of rum for the rummy on my right, and a tankard of ale for me, the best you've got."

"Gabby, you ass!" one of his friends chortled. "Don't order for people if you don't even know what they like! Seriously, lad, I'll take a Midori sour if you've got it."

"Make it two pints o' rum! Sailing's thirsty work nowadays," another boomed.

"Right away," their server inclined his head and turned back to move behind the bar.

"Oy, lassy!" one of the men called out to the stunned owner. "Can we get some fish and chips to help our livers steer straight tonight, eh?"

Makino only stared at Robert for a time. When he looked her way, she hastily averted her gaze before standing and fairly running back into the kitchen. "C-coming right up!"

Laughter reigned supreme then.

The door closed behind her. Now that she was out of sight Makino found she had to press a hand against the wall to steady herself.

I didn't just imagine that, did I? What had he been about to do? Did Robert know those men somehow? It hardly seemed likely. And nothing had actually happened. It was only an impression she had gotten. But still, the fear Makino felt had been so _real!_

Shaking her head, she tried to dispel that lingering pall. Do some cooking, it'll clear your mind. The girl moved to the stove and began preparing the meal. Into the bubbling oil pot she dipped some seasoned potato slices in a wire basket. She breaded some cod and started to fry them in butter, adding a squeeze of lemon juice. With swift assured movements Makino flipped the fish and reached for a knife to pare more potatoes.

As she picked up the sharp implement, a ray of light flashed off its blade. It made her remember with stark clarity that unnerving scene.

And that got her thinking.

Maybe Robert didn't know those men. Maybe… he only thought he did.

The guy with red hair in the black slicker. Makino had mistaken him for Red-haired Shanks. What if Robert had shared the same impression? And his reaction before learning the truth had been to…

My god.

Suddenly certain facts began to line up in her head. Word of the Red-Haired Pirates' return had been circulating for months. Robert had shown up only a week or two before that. Makino remembered it clearly. He stayed around even after earning enough to continue traveling. It hadn't seemed like an important issue, there could have been plenty of reasons for him to linger in Fuusha. Appreciation for the locale, maybe even looking to settle down here. But what if that had nothing to do with it?

Her hands continued to busy themselves preparing the food while her brain settled on this disturbing track. That famous pirate crew… it wasn't a secret they had made this village their base while hanging out in East Blue. If they did come back, no one would be surprised that they decided to do so again, or even just stop by for a visit. And should that happen, the one spot they could definitely be depended upon to visit was the local alehouse. If you were looking to find them, that would be the perfect place to start.

What if Robert had been waiting for Shanks?

The idea left her cold. With almost mechanical disassociation the fry cook scooped up the fish and chips and dropped them into wax paper-lined baskets. Taking one in each hand and the last two in the crook of either elbow, she moved to the door and opened it, backing out slowly.

Nothing had changed. The men sat at their table, still laughing amongst themselves, only now with drinks to help them along. Robert had gone back to clearing the plates and tankards left by earlier guests. He didn't even look up as she came back in. As for Makino, she found it hard to take her eyes off him. Practiced ease allowed her to navigate through the tables without even brushing against a chair. Which was good, because the more she studied him, the greater her suspicions grew. Had she been deceived? Was this man a bounty hunter only interested in using her bar to attract one of the most wanted men in the world? Just what did she know about him for sure, anyway? Nothing, that's what.

What should I do? I can't just fire him. It's only a half-formed conclusion I've drawn based on a split-second look. I could just as well be wrong. There's no point in asking him about it. If he was here for sinister reasons, he'd never tell me. And if I'm wrong I'd only be insulting him. But still, should my suspicions be correct, then not doing anything is the absolute worst thing I could do. So what are my options?

"PIRATES!"

The cry startled Makino so much she lost her footing. The baskets of food slipped and…

She collided against something solid. Before she knew it the wicker plates had flown from her hands and now settled on nearby tables too fast for her to see.

The astonished lady looked up to see Robert gazing down at her. She was pressed up against his chest, hands caught in the white fabric of his shirt. Distantly Makino realized how this situation must look like to anyone viewing it. Like something out of a romance novel.

"You all right, ma'am?"

There wasn't time to phrase a response to his calm query, as once more the quiet was broken.

"JOLLY ROGER SIGHTED! I SEEN IT, I DID! SHE BE BEARIN' IN FROM THE EAST! PIRATES A'COMIN'!"

This loud alarm was coming from outside. Makino recognized the voice as belonging to Old Norland, a retired sailor who spent his days scanning the waves with a telescope in search of noteworthy vessels. While somewhat dotty, the townsfolk had come to rely on him to give them early warnings of anything that might pose a threat to the community. Norland had never learned to distinguish between the Red-Haired Pirates' flag and any other. He only saw the skull-and-crossbones and immediately assumed the worst. There was no trust in his heart for anyone under that banner. It had become a rather frequent occurrence to hear his squawking back when Shanks was living among them. Most had thought it funny at best, mildly annoying at worst.

"PIRATES! LOCK UP YOUR DAUGHTERS! ENEMY ON THE MOVE!"

The sounds of the old coot diminished as he went racing on by. There was no way to know if it was Shanks or an actual menace approaching them. Pirate ships were rare in these parts, to be sure. Even knowing that, somehow Makino felt certain it was their old friends returned for a visit.

She found herself staring into Robert's calm black eyes. Beneath her hands she could feel a body that was rock-solid with muscle. This is the first time I've ever touched him, she realized. I knew he was in good shape for a guy, but this goes far beyond what one would expect from a simple waiter, or a poet. He feels like he's made of steel.

A shiver went up her frame. The man stepped back from her. No words were spoken between them. Instead the silent waiter only took up their guests' orders and walked on over to deliver it to them. That group was already excitedly discussing Norland's warning, wondering if there might be need to evacuate and whether there was a Marine garrison to be found nearby.

Makino wasn't wondering anything like that. Instead she was thinking about something else.

I'm not going to stay quiet this time.

In moments she had decided on a plan. It was sound, believable, and wouldn't attract suspicion.

Quickly moving over to the coat rack Makino grabbed a red long-sleeved shirt to ward against the chill of the approaching evening. "Robert?" she called out, fighting to keep her voice cheerful. "I'm going to see what the commotion is about. Keep an eye on things for me, will you?

"No."

"I won't be long s…"

Sliding on the shirt, she froze at realizing his response. The owner looked back at her employee with honest surprise.

"I'll go," Robert said in his deep soft voice, watching her with an intensity that was nothing less than frightening. He reached up and removed his hairnet before turning to leave. "Too dangerous for a girl to be out there. If it's really pirates I'll come back and warn you."

She wanted to say something to assert herself, remind him that she was the one in charge here even if she didn't like to flaunt her authority. But in the face of his icy statement she couldn't seem to find the words. Normally she would be offended at being painted in the portrait of fragile victimhood some men held towards her sex. Right now, though, it was like just by speaking the words he had made her become that weak and helpless female in need of protection, even if Makino would never describe herself as such.

"Stay here until I get back." Robert then crossed to the exit and stepped outside. He didn't even wait for her to voice agreement that he do so. A second later he was gone.

For a while there was only silence to be heard in the bar.

"Hey, miss?" one of the men called. "Do you think we could…?"

"Sorry, we're closed."

All four of them turned to stare at the oddly blank-faced young woman. She didn't bother to return the looks, only came forward and swiftly began clearing their barely-touched meals.

"Hey, what…?"

"I'm sorry, I really am, but right now we need to close." Makino stacked baskets and grabbed up glasses by the handles, too fast for them to react. "You should go somewhere safe, I recommend the post office, pirates aren't likely to visit there."

Before they knew it she had them on their feet and gently scooting towards the door.

"But we haven't even eaten! Or paid!"

"No need. Thank you for stopping by, and I hope to see you again. Drinks are on me next time. Thank you, goodbye!"

She nudged them across the threshold and through the swinging saloon doors. The four men stood stupefied as a 'Closed' sign was hung up in the window. Looking at one another in amazement, they shuffled their feet for a bit before meandering out into the street.

Makino was already heading into the kitchen towards the back door. She couldn't risk going out the front and running into Robert on her way to…

Where, exactly? What am I going to do? I haven't a clue. As she locked the door and stepped out into the lowering dusk, the distraught lady looked back and forth in consternation. Should I go to the mayor? And tell him what? '_I think my waiter is aiming to kill somebody'. _It sounds totally ridiculous.

She found herself moving down the alley regardless of having no clear destination. Maybe down to the docks, warn Shanks right away if it turns out to be him. But she could easily see herself meeting Robert down there, and that was something she wanted to avoid right now. Passing between buildings in this tiny hamlet, the young woman wondered what to do. If it is a hostile pirate ship, we're all in trouble. And if it isn't, then they are. But wait, this is crazy! I don't even know who it was that's heading this way! What can I do to warn them?

A few turns later brought her into the central plaza for Fuusha Village. Standing at the alley's end, Makino saw a lot of other people racing excitedly through the streets. Most were congregating at the docks. She shied back, fearful of running into Robert out there in the crowd. How to explain to him if she did? Looking out she could see the ocean stretching limitless and blue away from their puny island.

And there off in the distance was a dark blot that marked the approaching ship.

There was no one else in the village square now. Makino stumbled out into the open, feeling hot and frantic. I've got to do something. Oh really, like what? How bad is this, anyway? I don't even know if it's them. Besides, surely Shanks and his crew can handle one lone bounty hunter. But by the time they come into port it might already be too late. What if Shanks gets picked off by a sniper shot while he's on deck? Am I crazy for thinking this? How did I get to be in this state?

There were tears in her eyes. Frantically Makino wiped them away, turning her head to blink up at the darkening blue sky.

As she did, she caught sight of the flag.

It was whipping in the wind from its place atop the flagpole at the village center. The sight was visible from a ways offshore. Sometimes used to signal fishermen at sea of possible danger from storms or approaching pirates, the banner was changed to reflect such conditions.

Staring at that sight, a plan sprang to mind.

In no time Makino was hoisting down the village flag. A desperate mania had her working with lightning speed. This is crazy, I'm crazy for doing this. She told this to herself, but still it wasn't enough to make her stop. Soon the colorful square of cloth was wadded up at her feet. By then she had already stripped off her red shirt and was tying two ends of it to the rope. Once that was finished the makeshift banner began to climb skywards with every frantic pull she made on the cord until at last it fluttered daringly against the sky for all to see.

Makino stepped back from her handiwork panting. Her eyes shot out to sea, and she watched the vessel bobbing on the waves. By now you could easily make out the white sails of the ship bearing down on them. Several minutes went by, and she did nothing but stare breathlessly. Was it still getting closer? Miles away from shore, I can't make it out. The sun was setting behind them, and the dimming bright light made it somewhat easier to discern details.

Please let this work. Let them see it's a warning. Red means danger. If it is another pirate ship, they won't care about our warning and keep coming in anyway. But if this is the Red-Haired Pirates, please let them understand. Red is bad, even for you. It's not a welcome sign. Stay away from here please, oh please, don't come here today!

Fifteen minutes now. Still no change. Bad news either way. Feeling sick from worry, Makino hung her head and breathed deeply with her eyes closed. Enemies to threaten us, or friends who might be in danger? Who can say? The excited shouts of her fellows still drifted up to her ears. Had anyone made out the ship's flag yet? Can I at least know that much?

After a time spent in this position she noticed a change in the hubbub from the docks. It sounded almost questioning, and anxious. Like they didn't know what to think anymore.

Makino raised her head in dawning hope.

Far away, she could see the sails of the vessel clearly now. Is it really…? Yes… yes, it is!

They were turning.

With every second it became more obvious. And as her fellow townsmen grew more agitated, the barmaid's heart leapt. They had seen it! The ship was steering away from them, displaying its starboard side as it began to slowly head towards the south. Still couldn't tell if it was the _Dyed Red_, but whatever the case it didn't really matter.

Makino was feeling weak with relief. Her legs trembled like she had been running a marathon. Of a sudden there was nothing more sensible than to get back home. To this end she trudged down the deserted streets. No one passed her by or called out to her. They must all still be on the coast wondering what went wrong. I guess I'll have to explain it to them later. Assuming I can.

Upon reaching her shop she flung open the doors and gratefully went in. Energy returned to her as soon as she set foot back in her dominion. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the doorframe and sighed. The industrious damsel then reached up and flipped the sign back to 'Open', before skipping towards the kitchen. She had forgotten to turn the stove off before she left. A good thing the place hadn't burned down in her absence.

It was growing dark outside now. Time to turn the lights on. As she busied herself bustling about the cooking area, Makino thought about what just happened. And the more she did, the more it seemed as though she had behaved badly. I got frightened for a few seconds and immediately assumed the worst. Did I just scare off Shanks and company for no real reason? If this gets out I'll have a reputation for being a featherhead.

First thing's first, Makino thought as she went to light the lamps in the dining area. I have to talk to…

Makino opened the door and stopped. There stood Robert.

Things seemed dim and shadowy all around her. Almost cold. There was even less warmth to be found in his face. They stood there watching one another for a brief time before Makino thought to even speak.

"Oh, you're back!" She managed a smile, for which she was proud, and walked over to the windows. "Was it just a false alarm? That's what we get for trusting someone named Norland. He really should get himself a new hobby!"

The snap of the match as she bent to light the oil lamp was the only reply. Waving it out she turned back to him. "Did you…?"

Robert hadn't moved from that spot. Instead he was holding something out towards her. It took Makino only a moment to recognize what it was. A red shirt. Hers, to be precise.

She swallowed against a knot forming in her throat. "Robert? What's wrong?"

His lips opened slightly, enough for a harsh unforgiving whisper to come forth.

"You went outside."

The smile she tried to send him died before it could even be called a smirk. And when it was obvious there was no use pretending to be ignorant, her own face went hard.

"What are you _really _doing in our village?"

He didn't answer.

"Are you a bounty hunter? Have you been waiting for Shanks to come here so you could collect the reward?"

The shirt slithered from his grip and dropped to the floor. It lay there like a pool of blood. Makino was shaking. She couldn't explain why, because he still hadn't done anything. But there seemed little doubt that his intentions in being here were not healthy.

"You… you have to leave now," she whispered, unable to speak any louder for some reason.

When he didn't move, the trembling girl began to slowly edge around him. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The kitchen was closer than the entrance. She could lock that door behind her if need be, and he wouldn't be able to follow her in there. Assuming he was going to. Robert still hadn't moved an inch. Just stood there staring at her with cold flat dispassion.

Ten feet from the door, Makino lost her nerve. She couldn't take the sight of those eyes anymore, and she swiftly turned and bolted towards her escape. The sound of cloth tearing reached her ears, but she didn't dare to look back and see what it meant. Her hands caught the handle, she yanked it open.

And as she did, a huge clawed hand swept over her shoulder and slammed the door shut.

Still holding onto the latch with both hands, Makino stared wide-eyed at splayed fingers attached to an appendage that was too big, much too big. Muscles greater than a bull's shoulders stood out on that forearm. It wasn't human. The nails were sharp black claws an inch long, and short fur covered its entire length, white on the underside, yellow with black spots for the top. Like a leopard she had seen once at a zoo.

Those massive fingers slowly contracted, talons gouging deep furrows into the wood. As they did Makino stumbled slowly back in a daze. She collided with something then, a broad hard surface sheathed in hairs that scratched roughly against the back of her neck. Any thought of what this might be never crossed her mind, too stunned was she by the incomprehensible sight still before her.

A deep rumbling growl made that wall of muscled fur shake, and the girl clapped both hands to her mouth instinctively to prevent a scream.

She stood that way for a time, more frightened than at any point in her entire life. Not scared for someone else's safety, as was usually the case, but for herself. There was a shifting from behind. Makino buried her face in her hands without thinking about it. She was afraid if she saw anything more it might cause her to faint.

Because of this she only heard when the beast's muzzle came down near her ear. Hot breath washed against her slender throat as it opened its mouth, revealing ivory fangs of superlative sharpness. It inhaled deeply, and she knew it was scenting her fear. Tears welled up between her lashes and ran all the way down her neck.

"Please," she managed in words barely louder than a breath. "Please… leave."

A loud snarl sounded, causing her head to snap to one side. The animal's open mouth then came across her bared throat, enough to let her feel the lethal points pricking against her skin. Trembling, Makino waited blindly for what she knew was about to come. Her last thoughts were of the people she knew, her family, Luffy and Shanks, Dadan, Ace, plus all the things she'd never get to do now…

I wish I had more time.

There was a rapid flutter of something that sounded like wings close to her head. 'Angel' was the first instinctive thought. Surprised, the girl's teary brown eyes came up in time to see a white pigeon drop down and land on the creature's elbow.

"Coo," it warbled shrilly. Then it looked right at her, raised its wing in a little salute and said, "How do you do?"

Makino was dumbfounded. As she stared the bird hopped up the length of its outstretched perch, which did not move, until it was out of sight. After a bit there came the sound of whispers in that same trilling voice. Her ears picked out what sounded like, "…eported…mission termina...turn immediate…" After that it stopped.

There was a short growl in response, and then the monster withdrew its arm and stepped away.

Some brief rustling followed. When nothing more happened, Makino finally felt capable to turn and look behind her. The shredded remains of a white shirt lay on the floor. Robert was by the coat stand just finishing buttoning up his jacket. He then took down the black top hat he had worn that day he first came in and settled it on his head. Afterwards the false poet calmly walked to the doors and pushed through. He did not so much as look at his former boss on his way out.

The wooden portals swung shut with a snap, and her last sight of Robert was of him turning down the road that led out of town.

"Coo."

Makino jumped and spun. The white pigeon blinked at her from its position atop the bar. Then it bowed its little head.

"Thanks for all the honey-roasted peanuts. They're my favorite."

It spread its wings and flapped through the air and out the door before she could think to ask.

After a while the young woman realized her legs were about to give way. Just in time her hand snagged the balustrade and she collapsed onto a stool. Makino slumped across the bar, breathing heavily and crying without remorse.

She remained like this for an hour. Whether sleep came or not wasn't clear.

But when the screaming started, it roused her immediately.

She was out the door and hunting for some sign of the source of this distress in a second. People were running about and shouting, but no clear picture of the problem came to mind. Eventually Makino just grabbed someone by the shoulder and asked them.

"What happened? Is it pirates?"

"Makino-chan." It was the green-grocer. She almost hadn't recognized him for the look of wide-eyed dread he wore. Then his face seemed to clear and he gripped her hand firmly. "You need to get indoors. Lock yourself in! Don't go out on the streets, there's a wild animal on the loose."

"What?"

He glanced over at the mob of people going by and led her back to the entrance of her bar. "You don't want to know, believe me. Just don't go outside tonight. We're organizing a hunting party, it'll be all…"

Makino planted her feet and pulled her hand free. "Tell me. Please."

There was a pained expression on his face as he took in her resolute air. Then he cursed and spun away before coming back around in the same breath.

"Dammit!" The man clenched his fists helplessly before drawing a deep breath and continuing in a calmer vein. "They were out in the fields. Drunk, I think, they must have gotten their hands on some liquor. The girl said she never saw it coming. One minute they were laughing together, and then Bale was screaming on the ground with this big animal tearing at his throat. Eric tried to pull it off him, and it just… disemboweled him! Tore him wide open! She tried to run, and it came after. Sliced her face up really bad, but it left her alive. Some guys coming in from the windmill found her. She only now woke up to give the full story."

Makino's mouth hung open in horror at this recitation. "No," she gasped. The world was spinning, and suddenly she found herself sitting on the ground with a few more people bending over her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you like that! It's upsetting enough without hearing the grisly details. Damn, I'm so stupid! You didn't have to hear that!"

"What happened?"

"Makino-chan fainted!"

"I'm going to get my rifle! Wait here!"

"Does anybody know what it was?"

"From what th' girl said musta been a tiger, or could be a cougar. Prob'ly wandered down from Mt. Corbo."

"Did you see them? God, what a mess. Poor Bale, his head was nearly off his shoulders! The only thing holding it on was that scarf he wore. I still think Eric got it worse, though, I didn't even recognize him after…"

"Cut it out! You're scaring her! Look, she's shaking like a leaf."

"Makino-chan?"

This last came in the voice of a child. Looking over she saw the little boy Kibo gazing at her uncertainly.

"Don't worry, Makino-chan." And he drew himself up with an eight-year old's confidence. "I'll protect you from the monster!"

His attempt at comfort only left her sobbing uncontrollably with arms wrapped around her legs and face buried in her knees. Kibo patted the older woman's shoulder, uncertain of what more to do here. The adults soon took Makino in hand and drew her inside the bar. No one asked about Robert's whereabouts. Everyone assumed he had fled when he heard pirates were approaching, leaving nothing behind but an empty poem book. Poets were not considered the most stalwart of men, after all.

Makino never tried to correct them on that.

_**FIN.**_


	9. Those Who Can't, Teach

"Well? What do you see?"

The patron hovered anxiously across the table, even going so far as to tap his wooden peg-leg in an exaggerated manner. The hooded figure opposite did not react to his question. Slit pupils instead focused into a cloudy sphere that lay nestled on a velvet pillow between them.

To any other eyes, there was nothing to be gained from examining this globe beyond warped reflections and tricks of the light. Some might go so far as to convince themselves they could spy meaning and purpose from those distortions. But it was simply their own fancies working against them. Only when she gazed into it was a door opened, though whether that portal existed as a part of the crystal ball or its owner was not clear. At any rate, within those depths awaited glimpses of things beyond this room, its occupants, and even the time they lived in.

After a few seconds in which her jittery guest grew even more frantic, the enchantress drew away from her observations and reclined back, closing her eyes.

"You would do best to stay away from raw shellfish, unless you want an embarrassing new nickname among your crew."

"Huh?" The pirate drew back with a frown. "That's it?"

She took a drag on her bubble pipe. "What were you expecting?"

A hook attached to his left wrist tugged abashedly at the gold hoops in his lone remaining ear. "I dunno. Something like… I'll find a mermaid bride, win great fortune in the New World, captain my own ship one day, and maybe even…"

"Find One Piece?"

His single eye blinked up at her shrouded features high above him, the other covered by a patch with a silver stud in its center. "Yeah! Exactly!"

"I see whatever is most imperative regarding your current fate. What that may be isn't influenced by anything you or I consider attractive."

When he clearly remained somewhat disappointed by this less-than-earth-shattering revelation, her heart softened. At a gesture, one of the hostesses waiting nearby scooted over on her bubble seat. "Thetis, will you find the gentleman a table and bring him some coral pasta with hot sauce?"

"Of course, Madam!" The gorgeous mermaid then took the pirate One-Half Wally's hand and proceeded to lead him out of the curtained alcove. "This way, please, we'll get you taken care of in no time."

As they left together, Wally could be heard to say, "Hey, how did she know the way I like my pasta?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose. Do you want scallops to go with that?"

"You bet! Wait… is that shellfish?"

Shaking her head in amusement at this caution on his part, the fortuneteller draped a black silk cloth over her crystal ball. After tucking it in the crook of one arm, she then shifted herself gracefully onto her own floating transport and followed them into the open area of the Mermaid Café.

Madame Shirley had grown tired with revealing futures for today, and yearned only to rest.

Around her, the liveliest undersea hotspot in all Neptune's ocean was swarming with gorgeous female merfolk, each attending to an assortment of merrymaking humans sporting seafarer's dress. Despite being surrounded by so many vivacious goddesses of the sea, many a pirate's head turned upon spotting the owner of this establishment emerging to be with them.

Admittedly, even among mermaids, the proprietress stood out. To start with, Shirley was far bigger than the average of her breed, over twenty feet long from the tip of her tail to the top of her head. The glossy black fins of her lower half also drew the eye with how smooth they seemed in comparison to the others' visibly scaly components. As if this were not enough, her human proportions would have made any woman green with envy. A V-necked black blouse displayed pearly white skin and a prodigious bosom, leaving exposed her toned midriff where fish met feminine. The purple-lined cowl covering her head only served to accentuate this short-finned mako shark mermaid's allure. Over one eye draped a concealing curtain of her short-cropped inky dark hair, while the remaining ovoid amber iris spoke of both temptation and an inhuman ferocity not to be discounted. In spite of this, the sheer splendor of her features would have prompted any sailor to dare this siren's wrath, if only to have their last sight on earth be one of such surpassing beauty.

A few of the customers called out to see if Shirley would join them for a drink. Their entreaties ranged from courteous to downright vulgar, these last being met with bared teeth and a vicious expression. All bad behavior quickly fizzled out, and her wrath vanished just as fast. Satisfied, the café's owner made her way past streaming fountains and playful pools to the back room where her private quarters could be found. Standing at attendance by the door was her maitre d', a tiny lobster-fishman by the name of Cecile Bastion.

"Everything alright, Cecile?"

Wearing black coattails above his segmented legs and a perpetually dignified expression, the chief waiter raised his eyes on stalks up from perusing today's figures. "The girls have endured some light groping and teasing. Nothing more severe."

Shirley smiled at this report. "I'm sure they've given as good as they've got."

"Undoubtedly, Madam." He smoothed one claw through his upswept pompadour hairstyle before continuing. "In spite of their best efforts to clean us out, the food supply is still holding strong. Though I must say, the special group at Table 3 have shown no signs of stopping since they came in. One in particular is a bottomless pit in human form. And completely devoid of manners, I might add! Perhaps he is one of the commanders."

From back here she couldn't see the customer in question, but it hardly mattered. "Give them a little more leeway than the rest. We owe their crew a great deal."

The little brown arachnid huffed. Still, he didn't deny it. The Whitebeard Pirates would find themselves welcome virtually anywhere below Ryuuguu Palace. Here on Fishman Island their presence served to emphasize the continued protection afforded that underwater paradise by their captain, Edward Newgate, known also as Whitebeard, or simply the Strongest Man in the World. Were it not for his placing the merfolks' home under his auspices, they would still be at the mercy of vicious human slave traders eager to fetch a high price in the auctions of Saobody Archipelago. Returning to those hateful days was not a source of nostalgia.

After casting an appraising glance around her place of business, she declared with some satisfaction, "I'll take a rest before my next appointment."

"We shall see to it that no one disturbs you in the meantime." The crustacean nodded over to where Alfonso, a hulking whale shark fishman bouncer, loomed nearby. His intimidating presence served to prevent any curious customers from attempting to further relieve themselves of the burning questions no one else might hold an answer to.

Opening the door to her private office, Shirley paused with one hand on the frame. "What was the name?"

"Pardon, Madam? Oh!" Bastion began to rifle through his pages. "You mean of the next prospective client. Let me see, that would be…" He looked up then. "A fishman. Mr. Jones."

Her penetrating eyes met his watery black orbs. "Just Jones?"

"No further name was given. He will be arriving in one hour."

She nodded thoughtfully. 'Jones' was likely an alias. Not everyone wanted their dependence on a mystic to be common knowledge. "Very well. Keep things running smoothly until then."

"Naturally."

With that his employer closed the coral door behind her. Immediately the sounds of revelry diminished into an almost imperceptible hubbub. Her rooms were well insulated to ensure both privacy and comfort. Chests containing precious artifacts rested beneath cultivated coral, and silk draperies further lent their appeal to the environment. Dimming the lights, the beautiful mermaid moved towards the soft luminous glow emanating from an open giant clam. On its exposed fleshy interior she placed her crystal ball. At a specific touch the mollusk shut tightly, and the surroundings lapsed into further darkness. This did not prevent Shirley from seeing its contents in perfect detail. Her eyes were those of a deadly sea predator, and life or death depended upon where they fell.

At last the drowsy ocean-dweller settled down upon her spongy divan. As her head touched its soft sides, a particularly loud chorus of 'huzzahs' drifted faintly into her inner sanctum. Hosting Newgate's men was never undertaken lightly. Shirley was not unmindful of what being part of a pirate lord's territory entailed. Still, as far as seadogs went, the Whitebeard family stood head and tails above the rest, not only in strength of arms, but of character as well. There was hardly a bad egg in the bunch of them. The example set by their mighty father-figure went a long way towards instilling discipline and respectful behavior in these formidable rogues. Their division commanders were objects of veneration themselves, sporting incredible bounties in the world above as testament to their prowess. It was no wonder that the World Government did not dare tempt the wrath of Whitebeard for any minor reason.

All the same, one had to wonder how long this fragile peace would last. Newgate wasn't getting any younger. For all that King Neptune was afforded the title God of the Seas, his strength alone could never be as much of a deterrent to their enemies as the power of the Yonkou's army. Once Whitebeard died, it was highly likely that things would go bad very fast. Shadows were always lurking, watching for any opening or sign of weakness to steal into this aquatic nation.

But such forebodings remained nebulous, even for her. More prominent concerns occupied her thoughts. The fishman population was breeding troublemakers by the barrelful these days. It was their belief that sea-folk should be responsible for their own affairs without the intervention of land-dwellers, whether for good or ill. And businesses like her own that brazenly served humans often proved a target for those hooligans' frustrated ire. 'Til now none of the rebels had dared impugn the activities of the Mermaid Café. With their reckless behavior, however, it was only a matter of time before carnage exploded into their daily lives once more.

Thus far, Shirley's own visions of the future did not entail anything particularly dire. The world was in a state of peace and likely to remain that way for a span. Now was the time to enjoy what life had to offer. That was the way to be.

Beset by such thoughts, the weary maiden nestled her head on her arms and drifted off.

Light broke her slumber. For a while Shirley simply lay there without recognizing she had even been asleep. But the glow coming through her eyelids eventually registered as out of place.

When a rustling sound came as well, it proved enough to rouse her fully. There was someone in the room with her.

No actual sense of danger came at this realization. Shirley received no impression, whether otherworldly or natural, that her life might be in peril. All the same, her dominion had been invaded. Who would dare?

When she opened her eyes and sat up, the answer came quickly. The glow was coming from the clam strongbox that held her crystal ball. It had been opened. This in and of itself was worthy of notice. That living vault held strength in its joints greater than any creature in the deep ocean thrice its size. And she was the only person entrusted with the means to unlock it. For someone else to do so most likely meant they had forced it apart somehow. That would require a show of exceptional power.

Locating the culprit was not hard. Their dark silhouette stood before the clam, back seemingly turned to her. While bigger than a regular fishman, this person was still smaller than Shirley herself. The form was curiously unwieldy; somewhat barrel-shaped, with relatively short legs and long ropy arms. The shirt and pants were plain and of no noteworthy quality. Other than a long fall of kinky dark hair beneath the cloth head covering, there was nothing to draw attention to this figure.

Except that Shirley's keen nose detected a scent coming off him. Mixed with a shark's odor and one other smell she couldn't place right away came the unmistakable tang of blood.

The intruder's head turned slightly back and forth as though they were inspecting what lay before them. After a while one arm came up and they took a bite out of something, chewing loudly. It was this further display of bad manners that caused Shirley to finally speak up.

"Why are you in my chambers?" she demanded frostily.

Her visitor paused in the middle of his meal. At last he turned to regard his glowering hostess. Black eyes fringed by weirdly girlish lashes blinked before swallowing that last mouthful. Something red dribbled down his clean-shaven chin, and he wiped one bare brawny forearm across it. Finally, the crooked mouth grinned hugely.

"Nee-san, you finally awake? I've come looking to discuss my fate today."

Shirley studied this odd person. His lack of decorum was something that would have to wait. First there was the issue of how he had even gotten in her rooms to begin with.

"Who let you in here?"

He scratched his stomach, left bare by his open shirt. "Little fellow with antennae whiskers and big claws. I showed him my ticket, and he showed me right in." With that the brute reached into a pocket and proudly displayed one of her appointment stubs, somewhat wrinkled and worse for wear. The name on it was still clearly visible.

"Mr. Jones."

That tremendous smile didn't wilt a bit. "He be me."

Her veiled eyes flickered over to a large hourglass in another part of the room. Red sands trickled down smoothly, and by this she gauged the time. "If you are my next customer, you're half an hour early."

"That's what your little doorman said. Him and his blubbery friend. But I convinced them it would be all right. I'm not looking to be a bother, Nee-san, it's just I'm trying to keep this business quiet. What I learn here could affect the fate of the world, you know!"

It was more than a little discomforting the way he said that. Casually, but in a manner that people sometimes used to reveal very large or important events. Like they were so used to knowing it by now they expected everybody else to be just as relaxed upon learning that a hurricane was heading towards them, or that war had just been declared.

At this point, Madame Shirley suddenly determined a few things. The person standing before her was lying. He was a human. And the smell on his breath was cherry pie, of all things.

"You are not Mr. Jones."

The man sucked on a gap in his teeth, then shrugged. "Nope."

Shirley pointed peremptorily to the door. "Then I have nothing to say to you, other than to make an appointment and come back later."

She was about to turn away from him to ring for help if need be, when suddenly he shouted, "Wait, hold on!"

The princess of prognosticators looked back. For the first time his face had taken on a rather uncertain expression.

"Okay, I'll admit, I didn't come by this nicely." He held up the ticket. "I got into some roughhousing with this shark fellow Jones at a bar earlier. Him and his pals tried to strong-arm me, and I had to teach them a lesson. Not like I killed anybody!" the man added. "Jabberjaws will just be sporting a new scar on his gut from now on. But after the fight, I was looking through their pockets, plundering the way pirates do, and I came across this ticket! Had the time, address, everything. And you've got a good reputation from what folks say. Always wanted to meet you! Still, not like I could just walk up and ask for my fortune for everybody to hear. That would be announcing my intentions. It's just good luck that I came across this one. This is my appointment with destiny, I was meant to have it! Shouldn't you know that?"

His story explained the smell that clung to him. The bloodstains were still prominent on his shirt. But his vicious reasoning did nothing to convince her. In fact, she was feeling her temper fast start to boil at the implications.

"Did you harm any of my employees to get in here?" she growled, lifting off her seat and floating towards him on her bubble chair.

The unnamed interloper gazed upwards wide-eyed as that menacing female came to loom over him. He looked more surprised than scared. "I didn't lay a finger on them. You've got my word as a son of Whitebeard."

As he spoke that name, Shirley paused and sent him a questioning look.

"You? One of that man's crew?"

An eager nod was her response. "You bet! For about two decades now, I've been sailing under his command."

She considered this. Would anyone be reckless enough to claim association with Whitebeard if it wasn't true? Those that did inevitably found themselves facing the Yonkou's wrath, as neither he nor his followers took such things lightly. Maintaining their father's good name meant eradicating anyone who carelessly blasphemed or abused its power. Actually, all she had to do in order to verify this was open the door and ask one of the pirates currently enjoying her hospitality. The matter would be quickly settled, one way or another.

For some strange reason, though, Shirley found herself inclined to refuse him regardless of whether his claim be true or not. There was something about this man, a weird aura. It was not the same as the heavy foreboding she had received upon meeting certain forceful people in the past, like the infamous Dragon, or Crocodile of the Shichibukai. It was more the absence of any such warning that unnerved her. Clearly he was dangerous. Ordinary humans, even Whitebeard's sons, did not talk about casually defeating a party of super-strong mermen as though it were no significant feat. Yet here he stood, giving off no other impression besides that of a boastful glutton with a high opinion of his own importance. Nothing else, even to her occult perceptions. It was like he didn't exist on some level. What could it mean?

To find the answer, she would have to give him what he wanted.

"Very well," she declared. "I will tell you your fortune."

His round eyes brightened. "Great! Let's do this!"

The two of them took their places on either side of the sparkling globe. Bathed in the bioluminescent light of its base, they looked at one another. Shirley appeared cautious, while her client was positively vibrating with glee. Like he couldn't wait for what came next. He rubbed his hands together rapidly. "Say, I don't have to cross your palm with silver, do I?"

"No," she waved a hand. "That's an old gypsy trick. Your destiny will be made clear without heed of wealth."

"Okay, fire it up!"

With only a curl of her pert lips to demonstrate her distaste for this figure, Madame Shirley gazed deeply into the crystal ball.

Almost immediately the impression of disassociation that came from foretelling settled upon her. The interior of the stone swirled and darkened. This was a regular occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary.

But then, instead of clearing to reveal any sort of image, the ball grew darker.

And darker.

At last it went completely black.

Madame Shirley stared, entranced.

The man, seeing none of this transpiring, looked from the sphere back to her. "Anything yet?"

She was seemingly absorbed with whatever was taking place between them. Raptly the enchantress continued to peer at the mark of her craft.

Frowning, the pirate shifted from one foot to another and stuffed the remainder of the pastry into his mouth. He chewed warily for a while, in which the witch still made no move. She looked hypnotized.

Just when he was starting to wonder if this might all be a hoax, however, the great mermaid stirred. Immediately his excitement returned, and he eagerly plied her once more. "Well, Nee-san, what did you see?"

Lips slightly parted, Shirley did not look at him when she spoke.

"Darkness."

The change in his manner was immediate. Gone was the school-boyish energy that had animated him before. Now a new persona settled in across from her. This one was calm, and crafty, and very sure of itself.

"Where?" he demanded in a voice low with hunger. He hadn't asked for an explanation. It was almost as if he had been expecting her to say that very word. "Where can I find it? Who's got it now?"

Shirley lifted her head to him, a distracted look in her eyes. "What?"

"The Dark!" the man insisted, leaning forward impatiently. "Where do I have to look to find it?"

She stared at him for a time. "You misunderstand. The darkness I see isn't an aspect of your future. It is an absence."

A puzzled expression settled on his broken-nosed face. "Eh? You mean I'm going to die?"

"Inevitably. But that's not what I meant." Reaching out, Shirley retrieved her pipe from where she had left it. After inhaling and blowing out a soapy bubble, she looked down upon his eager form with a certain degree of sympathy. "There is a force at work in the world. Some call it Fate. Others God. A very few know it as the Will of D."

A smile crooked his lips when he heard that, but she pressed on before he could speak.

"I can clearly see the designs laid out for those who have walked into this grand purpose whether by chance or choice. But for you, there is nothing."

The big man scowled, clearly disturbed by her words. "I don't understand. What is my fate, then?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, as I said. There is no purpose you are destined to achieve. Whatever might happen to you from this day onward, it wasn't meant to be. And whatever you accomplish, it will not last, born away by the efforts of other men."

Her words had an affect on him. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten there was anyone else in the room. His gaze drifted down to the crystal ball, and one large hand came up compulsively as though to seize hold of the future.

Shirley swiftly reached out, closing the lid of her strongbox. Immediately the room was lost in shadows, leaving her watching the place she had last seen him, an afterimage of that strange misshapen frame imprinted on her eyes. Perhaps that is what this person is, she reflected. A leftover, an echo of something unwholesome that was not permitted to exist.

A corruption.

"Whoever you are, you are not part of the plan, human."

The man's image leapt out to her by his body's electromagnetic field and scent. His mouth hung slack at this revelation, crumbs on his lips and disbelief on his face. Slowly his head drooped down and he stared at the floor, breathing deeply, limbs quivering with some unknowable emotion.

And then quite unexpectedly, he laughed.

"ZE-HA-HA-HA-HAH!"

It made her shiver, standing alone in a darkened room with that strange creature bellowing gleefully. But he made no move against her. Instead the man turned and shambled confidently towards the door, refraining from bumping into anything in spite of the dark. Upon reaching it he wrenched the portal open. Light and noise came spilling in.

Framed against that raucous backdrop, the nameless pirate looked over his shoulder and smirked at the fortuneteller.

"Those who can, do, Nee-san. It's true no one can fight their fate. But if mine is empty, all that means is it'll take a lot to fill it up!"

The two of them regarded one another for a while longer, him grinning cruelly, her frowning with distaste. Never had Shirley experienced a stronger revulsion towards another living thing. She felt certain of just having met someone who was capable of causing grievous harm to the time in which she lived. It made her briefly wish for a weapon of some kind to plunge into this monstrosity's back and snuff out his life before he could do any more damage than he already had.

There was no opportunity to do so, however. The only objects at hand were the trappings of her profession, silks and gemstones, soft pillows and beautifully carved coral. These things were not of any use in subduing such a menace. And around him still was the protection afforded by Whitebeard. One did not injure any of that lot unless you wished for the heavy hand of their leader to come down upon you.

Madame Shirley moved to the door as he left, keeping her eyes locked on that retreating form and wishing she did not feel so utterly helpless. The source of her distress made his way through the crowd without anyone else seeming aware of the danger he represented. And for all that she could not say what the future might hold in store for him, without a doubt it would mean suffering. Perhaps for a great many people.

"Madam!"

Glancing to her right she found Cecile holding a wet towel to his head next to a mermaid fanning the prostrate bouncer Alfonso with a white napkin. The maitre d' scuttled over to her anxiously. "Forgive me, Madam, I… I don't really know what happened! Some rogue insisted on seeing you, and my head became dizzy, and... the girls found me passed out along with Alfonso. I didn't want to disturb you unless… "

His waving eyes turned to follow where Shirley had been looking earlier, and he jumped a foot in the air. "Merciful Nyads, was that scoundrel in your quarters this whole time? I'll place a call to the city guard, they'll be sure to teach him a lesson!"

"No." She held up a hand to forestall him. "Don't make a fuss. Just let him leave peacefully."

He gawked up at her with worry. "But Madam, why…?"

The young businesswoman only shook her head, rubbing her arms to dispel any lingering chill. "Did anything else happen while I was asleep?"

Bastion appeared troubled by her refusal to elaborate further, but did not press it. "Well, that vociferous gentleman at Table 3 also passed out, right in the middle of eating. Could have drowned in his soup, but his crewmates insisted he does that all the time and it had nothing to do with my own episode. He should wake up any minute now according to them. Another guest drank too much and tried to go for a swim without realizing it was in the crab tank. We pulled three out of his pants before they could do any real damage, and he's calmed down sufficiently. Though he insisted nothing was lost as a result, his friends have taken to calling him Down-One Wally. Also, some fishmen made a deal of noise at the front entrance about being robbed by a guest and had to be chased off, after which…"

Shirley listened to him with half an ear. The rest of her concentration was bent on making sure a certain eerie figure exited without any further incident. No one else seemed to take note of his presence. He afforded them the same lack of interest. She watched the man wander past giggling mermaids and swaggering pirates without sparing them a glance. His walk was filled with determination, like there were places and people awaiting his presence and no time left to waste here.

Only when he had passed beneath the portico of the Mermaid Café and disappeared outside did she finally let herself relax. Shirley knew she could not fight him. But perhaps the revelations she had come across today might be of use to those who would.

"Cecile?"

"Yes, Madam?"

"I won't be seeing any more guests."

"I'll get to work clearing your schedule, then." He withdrew a sheet from his coat pocket along with a pencil. "When would you like to resume telling fortunes?"

"Never."

She turned and went back into her room, leaving the lobster-man speechless.

In years to come, Madame Shirley would tell any inquisitive people that she had given up predicting the future simply because it was better left unknown. What she neglected to mention was the fear she felt towards what might be approaching.

Or rather, who.

_**FIN.**_


	10. Dancing on Rotten Eggshells

"A fish out of water. How slippery."

"Avoid the royal herring, dear, it might be a relative of yours!"

"Is her husband King Crab?"

Obnoxious voices rang out in challenge, their unrestrained loathing surging hot and noisome. A few of the ladies seated nearby glanced uncertainly towards the target of those slanders. Their concern felt delicate and sweet. It flowed in and touched her heart to fit in comfortably while the hostile sneers slid off like water from a duck's back. When she gave no sign of being perturbed a wellspring of relief exuded from the other guests.

Queen Otohime swam in a sea of emotions.

The unparalleled star of this evening bore herself with extreme gravitas. She had come here on a mission of mercy and diplomacy. This party being held in a grand ballroom of Mariejois was ostensibly in her honor, but such an extravagant display was more for her hosts' benefit. To remind the oceanic emissary what incredible influence was exerted by the World Government. A more gorgeous glittering ensemble could not have been dreamt of by any stretch of the imagination. Personages of great worth were gathered from all four Blue Seas. Here you could find prestigious diplomats, high-ranking military officers, and renowned world figures. Even a few World Nobles bobbed along, insulated by power and privilege. They were the ones behind all of the insults. None of the other partygoers appeared willing or comfortable in disparaging a foreign ruler.

Such a variety of responses to her presence from the surface dwellers. They were just as diverse as life under the sea. It was rather like a fish bowl in that respect. So much color on display in terms of temperament as well as costumes, an aquarium reflecting the best this world had to offer.

But there was only one Queen of the Sea. Small and delicate, with curly golden hair and great penetrating eyes, the goldfish mermaid sat amidst a school of human women bedecked in all their finery. The very picture of dainty nobility, she let any jibes wash over her without evidence of reproach. This queenly dignity impressed many of those who also had to endure the Tenryūbito's disdain. The grotesque World Nobles looked positively bestial by comparison. That did her cause good. Otohime was resolved to prove to them that unlike humans, fishmen could thrive in any environment, whether on dry land or off.

These depths are no less dangerous than the ones I am used to, she reminded herself. And no less beautiful. The thought gave her hope that this expedition would yield a true and lasting alliance between their realms.

"I confess my husband is quite taken with you, Your Highness," a dark-skinned lady in North Blue furs attempted to restart the conversation. "He was very anxious in regards to your health from earlier. Are you quite recovered?"

The queen smiled warmly. "Please thank him for his concern, but what I lack in strength I make up for in resiliency. It's nothing I haven't endured before."

They fluttered around her as though she were in danger of breaking. Perhaps it was a little condescending, but sweet all the same. Strangely enough her natural frailty was what had worked to her best advantage. Otohime harbored no illusions about the people she had placed her safety in. The Tenryūbito especially were vain and cruel like it was essential in order for them to breathe. They looked upon the suffering of others as if it was a play for their amusement. In fact when she came face-to-face with a party of World Nobles after delivering the recuperated St. Miosgard back to his family, they had called for her immediate imprisonment.

She did not resist when their personal guards laid beefy hands upon her. The breaking of her bones that resulted, however, served to shock even the Tenryūbito. To say nothing of those representatives of the World Government accompanying them. This unexpected fragility in a member of the supposedly hardy fishman breed came as a surprise. Such was the extent of the undersea monarch's injuries that it actually spurred the other dignitaries present to come to her rescue against the so-called Celestial Dragons. King Cobra of Alabasta proved absolutely livid at this treatment of a fellow ruler. His concern at least was unfeigned, but whether the others took up the cause on her account or simply to thumb their noses at the Dragons was not clear. Nettled perhaps by the ease with which she was injured without any effort or creativity required, the World Nobles quickly lost interest in punishing the aquatic queen for any transgressions by her people.

Then again, it could be owing to her own strong haki of empathy that had reached out to influence all those around her in some small way. Even the World Nobles, who projected an aura of overbearing disdain for other living creatures. Through their near-animalistic masks of abuse and indifference Otohime could still sense a hidden vulnerability. Unchallenged authority throughout their whole lives had robbed them of their own humanity. They were tightly-contained balls of lazy conceit that could have anything they wanted and so held nothing of value. Other than their own lives.

And yet she could feel the truth. Buried under the weight of years of depravity there remained terrible weakness. It would take only a single human being with no regard for their own safety to end the life of a Tenryūbito. In that respect they were no different than anyone else. No amount of bodyguards or even Marine Admirals could rid them of this fear. Even the air they breathed held perils, and so they wrapped themselves in those grotesque suits for further protection. It would never be enough. The worst enemy lay within their own corpulent bodies. Past any problematic health concerns their dissolute lifestyles might tempt there was the malaise of the spirit. Their hearts were rotting away. And suffering right along with them was Otohime, experiencing the inner pain without surcease which they tried to deny.

A lively paean was struck up by the orchestra. Highborn ladies and sultry chanteuses alike looked to their menfolk expectantly, who were quick to take the hint. They presented their arms and proceeded to gallantly escort their chosen companions onto the dance floor. Not all the ladies accepted these offers, though. Some were too old, others too… broad to successfully maneuver in such a crowded exhibition of dance. Still more were involved in intimate activities which required their undivided attention.

Queen Otohime was none of these. Yet she too demurred any invitations which came her way. A few of the remaining ladies teased her playfully to accept. Even here the royal fishwoman had to disappoint them. This was not owing to any modesty or shyness on her part. The Sea Queen's delicate physique simply could not withstand the rough handling of any partner on dry land. Their most restrained attempts at physical contact left her with bruises blotched in sallow yellow and angry purple.

She was more than willing to accept pain as she had her whole life. But this remained a diplomatic gathering. The slightest misstep could cost her dearly. Besides, Otohime was quite content to watch their unusual style of above-water dancing. Perhaps a trifle wistfully, the dainty ruler settled back amongst soft cushions and returned her attention to those ladies-in-waiting.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty. May I have this dance?"

Turning her head, Otohime was just about to decline the offer politely.

The words died on her lips.

A crooked creature bent over the back of the couch on which she sat, resembling some great sinuous species of eel. But smiling. Like a shark. No, this was… a man. A very tall slender man engulfed in a great billowing pale green robe that seemed to swirl around him like water. There might be the word 'Gas' written on it but the material swam before her eyes, preventing any clear translation. The whole outline of his body wavered in much the same way. He wore a striped leotard beneath and gloves on his fingers. Wild dark green hair sprouted from his head in every direction and spilled down his hunched back thick as seaweed. A pair of long curved horns grew out from it. There was a mask-like quality to the face beneath. Like someone had painted on his features and hung them there. His age was impossible to determine. White teeth gleamed against red lips dark as spilt blood, made even more lurid by a sallow off-white complexion. Beautiful large slanted eyes studied her. They gleamed like chunks of gold in his skull as he smiled down with the most mischievous expression possible.

Otohime detested him on sight.

The women around her were saying something, but it all sounded muffled. Maybe because of how hard her heart was pounding. Since her earliest days this gracious lady had never truly disliked anyone. True she might become angry with them and did not hesitate to dish out violent punishment when necessary. Sometimes that was the best way to get to a person's heart, to wake them up to what they themselves didn't even know they were feeling. In spite of her own bodily limitations her capacity for compassion had never failed to accept another living person. Criminals, newborns, people on the street; every one of them held value to her. Otohime had always understood the hearts of others due to her strong haki. Their pain was hers to share, and their joys. She treasured them.

Not him.

_Never _him. Whoever or _what_ever this thing might be, his very existence repelled her. How could you hate a person right off the bat without ever even having been angry at them? It hardly seemed possible. Only the things she felt coming from him struck so surely at her core, as if she had met the antithesis of a heart. The very air threatened to strangle her like poison. Even the Tenryūbito held something worthwhile deep down that her power could reach to help her understand them, but this… it was utterly alien to everything she recognized as a living being. It felt like she had come face to face with Death itself.

"Your Majesty?"

His voice, smooth and playful, brought her back to reality. A small shiver went up her spine to find the inhuman devil continuing to leer down at her. Otohime regarded this noxious spirit with a carefully neutral expression. The other women were all gushing and exclaiming over him. There might have been a name in there, but her own magnified heartbeat eclipsed their idle chatter. None of them responded to his presence as she did. The hand was still extended out to her. With an effort the queen forced herself to smile at him. It felt wrong. "You must forgive me, I cannot take part in any dancing. I have a frail constitution."

"Which is exactly why I am here!" As he spoke the airy phantom abruptly moved forward. To her surprise his body passed straight through the back of the couch as if it were no more substantial than a bubble. Otohime felt something encase her wrist. The next thing she knew he was standing before her, and they were holding hands.

"I have what you might call an… _ephemeral_ touch," the shinigami chuckled. Her fellow partygoers clapped appreciatively at this neat trick.

_A Logia user, _the queen realized. Some type of air variety. She could feel a sensation like bubbles tickling faintly over her skin. While clearly insubstantial, his Devil Fruit powers enabled him to exert sufficient pressure on her fair form without applying much force. This meant he could touch her without fear of causing injury. Of all the disgusting people to bypass her protective vulnerability. It was as if she had found someone with precisely the same delicate disposition as herself but of the exact opposite temperament.

"As you can see, there is no reason to be afraid." He bent down, and for a moment she feared he might try to kiss her hand. Instead the creep swept a courtly bow, never losing that sickening smirk. Like he was laughing at them all, and her especially. He released her and drew himself upright. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am widely regarded as the world's paramount scientist and academic, famo-"

"OH!" Otohime was so surprised she temporarily forgot her distaste. "The illustrious Dr. Vegapunk! How wonderful to finally meet you!"

The spectral scientist paused. His red lips quirked slightly to one side. "Ahhh… no." His teeth ground together and he coughed ostentatiously in a bid to recover his dignity. "No, you might say I am primarily a man of medicine. My forte is the living body, and I am known as-"

The queen held up a hand to forestall him. "No need, good sir. Even on Fishman Island we have heard tell of your miraculous contributions to medicine. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Dr. Hogback."

A few giggles came from her entourage, and Otohime glanced around at them curiously. For his part the demon's smile appeared a trifle strained. That already pasty skin paled even more so. "Ahem! Madam, you… are mistaken. I'm trying to tell you, my name is-!"

"Doctor Kureha?"

"CLOWN!" he screamed furiously. "DAMMIT, I'M CAESAR…!" Upon noticing how many people turned to stare at this outburst, the flustered man of science calmed down in a hurry. "I'm Caesar Clown," he snapped.

"Oh." Otohime tilted her head to one side and tried to remember if she had ever heard that name before. After a while she gave a helpless shrug.

Caesar gazed at her expectantly for a few seconds while chewing his lip. Then slowly that same lethal smile worked its way up his face. He held out his hand to her once more. "As I was saying, Queen Otohime. I wonder if you might grant me the honor of a dance?"

Otohime hesitated. What possible excuse could she give now other than she really didn't want to? While she was thinking, one of the middle-aged matrons leaned over and patted her gown gently. "Go on, dear," the plump socialite whispered. "He's much nicer than he looks."

A second simpered behind her fan. "Master Clown here developed the rarefied air that the Tenryūbito breathe. It's quite brilliant, and made him something of a celebrity as a result."

"You simply must go with him, Your Majesty!" another gushed. "I would so dearly love to see you two dancing together! Oh please say you will, I'm sure it would be a breathtaking sight!"

Their warm-hearted exhortations continued to fall on her like rain. Unwilling to disappoint, Otohime regarded that glove extended out as if it were a lionfish that might sting her. There was no telling why a creature like this might seek her company, but he clearly held some position of prominence in the World Government. It would not be wise to openly offend him when she didn't know where he stood in terms of authority. She must remain devoted to the real reason behind her being here.

With that, the Sea Queen took the proffered support and drifted gracefully upright. With a determined air she looked up at the leering Logia and said in her most official voice, "I would be pleased to dance with you, sir."

"Splendid!" he chortled, and led her forth.

Whispers and riveted stares marked their passing. The audience parted to give them room. Before she knew it Otohime stood with Caesar Clown in a small cleared space at the center of the ballroom. True to his word, the Gas Man's touch brought no pain, though truthfully she would have welcomed any other partner no matter how her bones might break. Slowly he raised their still conjoined fingers to shoulder height. His other wispy arm looped down to encircle her waist. Automatically Otohime placed her free hand on his shoulder. They faced each other for a short time with hands clasped, him bent over her like a malevolent question mark, her striving to keep the loathing from showing in her face.

Then a piano heralded the next stage of a waltz. Caesar took the lead, and they slipped into dance.

The semi-solid scientist swept smoothly along the wooden parquetted floor as though he were floating, which considering his feet were lost in a cloud of vapor might very well be so. Beneath her train Otohime's split tail supported her as reliably as a professional ballerina. The Ocean's ruler flowed in her silks and scales as though she were back in her natural environment. Trailing scarves twined in and out of mist-like protrusions in sinuous counterpoint to their dance. Many of the other partygoers murmured appreciative comments and even stopped to watch these two well-matched elementals. There was no denying they made for a striking pair.

"I'm glad we have this opportunity to talk," Caesar breathed after a minute of uninterrupted dancing. "It would be such a shame if you went home empty-handed and our paths never crossed. Especially since, in my opinion, your kingdom is uniquely situated to gain from my field of expertise."

"I beg your pardon, Master Clown?" Otohime was finding it difficult to concentrate on both the steps of the waltz and continuing to hate this man.

"I'm offering to make this field trip of yours more than the wasted effort it's been up until now!"

That nettled her. "What do you mean 'wasted'?"

They twirled artfully around another set of dancers, water and air gliding over the stones. "You're seeking to make headway in having Ryūgu Kingdom recognized at the next Royal Reverie. So that mermaids and fishmen will be able to move above water unmolested. Such a bold feat would resolve quite a few of the troubles your nation labors under, hmmm? But I don't see anyone falling over themselves to accept. Instead you're being handled. Diplomatically, I'll grant you, but handled nonetheless."

She studied the repulsive human with wariness now. "For a scientist, you have an unusual interest in politics, sir." Otohime managed to make it sound like an accusation. Her hazy partner only laughed it off.

"Oh, I like to keep informed about the daily goings-on." He leaned in close. His breath reeked faintly of ammonia, and she strove not to gag. Caesar only grinned wider. "But in any great escapade there are always those seeking to block it for their own benefit. Like the World Nobles. And they are hardly your greatest opponent. Widespread ignorance and fear stymy your efforts more than anything else! It wouldn't be exaggerating to say the entire coalition of earthbound nations stands arrayed against your one lonely little island. That's quite an imbalance in terms of military arms and personnel."

Without warning he dipped her backwards so that she was almost parallel to the floor. Otohime caught her breath. His colorful death-mask face loomed large and she could see her own worried features reflected in his hungry eyes. A brief mental image flashed to mind of a colorful lure dangling provocatively in the water to lure any unwitting fish into taking a bite.

"Maybe I can be of help tipping the scales in your favor?"

Could this be some bizarre test instituted by the dry-landers? A trap of some kind to gauge her sincerity? Or was this demonic entity honestly proposing to aid her. She truly did not want to know, but still the porcelain-doll potentate found the next question slipping out. "What exactly are you offering?"

And Caesar laughed.

"SHU-LO-LO-LO-LO-LO!"

When he was finished his red mouth bent to whisper in her ear.

"Death, Your Majesty."

Her eyes went wide and once again the sounds of the ballroom seemed to recede as that soft voice hissed further sinful imprecations.

"I am offering you the power of Death itself!"

After a while the Gas Man pulled away to continue leading their promenade around the party. But now Otohime hardly made a move to participate. Her bones were shaking too hard. The room felt colder than the bottom of the ocean. With one word he had turned this place into a meat locker and all the partygoers nothing but slabs of beef colliding against one another as they swung by hooks.

Her first instinct was correct. This was no man she faced, but a demon. Yet it seemed like all she could do was keep asking him questions. "Why?"

Caesar's face twisted into an even more fiendish approximation of glee, almost as if she had already acceded to his proposal. "Well, you see, I find myself somewhat… underappreciated… by those who live on land. While working under the auspices of the World Government I have fashioned numerous gas weapons the likes of which the world has never seen. The least of them could end any conflict regardless of size in a matter of minutes! Yet _none_ of my creations are currently used by the Marines! A few minor peccadilloes, some meaningless lives lost, and they completely prohibit an entire branch of science! The subtle wonders of my accomplishments are lost on them. All they see is a potential threat to their own puny lives and none of the glory!"

His lips tugged down in a frown as he threw a sharp glance at the people gathered around them. There was bitter loathing in Caesar's bearing, the most human emotion she had seen from him yet. She knew then without a doubt he wished to see them die, down to the last man. He would enjoy watching it, the filthy pervert! When his attention returned to her she quickly strove to hide these feelings.

"But the same wouldn't be true for fishmen," he hissed in a syrupy-sweet coaxing tone. "What is inescapable death for humans is no more than a mild annoyance for you! Any river or sufficiently large body of water offers you immediate escape. Or simply fill your lungs with water and voila! Unlike them you needn't fear an errant breeze blowing my weapons back on your own forces nor even making an entire island unlivable! The ocean is your true home, far vaster and more fatal to those not inclined to that element. The inhabitants of Fishman Island are born with a superior survival potential you have never been able to exploit to its fullest. Until now!"

Caesar lifted himself up proudly. "I am the fulfillment of that potential. Think of it, Your Majesty. Kill all your enemies without ever leaving the comfort of the seas! With me beside you, the entire air-breathing population could conceivably be wiped out! You could exterminate them all or in part, allowing only those who surrender to survive under your rule. Bend the World Government to your will, and take your place in history! Together you and I can usher in a brand new age: the Age of Aquarius!"

This conversation was making her feel ill in a way she could never have imagined. He spoke of mass murder as if it were no more remarkable than his next meal. Otohime finally regained strength enough to speak. "If any of the Marine officers hereabouts were to hear us talking like this, it would be the end of my mission and perhaps even our lives. I must ask you to end this dialogue now."

"You needn't fear." The hovering Logia then gestured slightly with their intertwined fingers. "I've already taken precautions. My powers enable me to manipulate the very air we breathe. In order for sound to travel, it must pass through some medium, and I have removed a thin layer of air molecules at a certain distance all around us. You might say we are encased in an invisible eggshell made of absent particles. Perhaps you noticed we stopped hearing any music or outside conversation a while back?"

As he spoke only now did the truth of this statement register on her ears. The party had indeed fallen silent but no one else remarked upon it. Truly unnerving.

Caesar drew them along once more without missing a beat. He apparently had no trouble keeping up with the orchestra even if it wasn't audible. "None of our words can be overheard, and I am supplying you with all the oxygen you need directly. A slight alteration in chemical makeup also causes the image of our bodies to waver so that our lips can't be read. That's all it takes to ensure our privacy, Queen Otohime. Your nation's great future can be assured just as easily. Are you inclined to agree?"

He means it. And worse, he actually expects _me_ to go along with this nightmare! Of all the insulting…! Still Otohime strove to keep her voice level when she spoke. "If you think I would commit to such a ludicrous proposal out of the blue then-!"

"No, no, no," the Devil Fruit user sniffed negligently. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to put any faith in my wild ramblings…" Caesar's eyes drifted slyly off to one side. "… without a demonstration, that is."

"CAESAR CLOWN!"

Abruptly the music turned back on. Otohime was so startled she might have stumbled were the madman not still holding her upright. They both looked over to find a group of men in black suits and dark shades making their way through the crowd. These grim-faced newcomers stopped short of the ocean ruler and her escort.

The Logia lunatic looked them up and down while raising an eyebrow. "How may I help you, gentlemen?"

A blonde man stepped forward to stand stiffly at attention. "Sir, I regret to inform you that there has been an accident in your lab."

"Accident?" Caesar's eyes widened, and his face assumed a look of horror. _"Merciful heavens!_ My assistants, they were working late tonight! Please tell me what happened!"

The leader did not even flinch. His face was so impassive as to be carved from stone. All the same, Otohime could feel the anxiety and discomfort he kept hidden from the world. "Sir," the man spoke without any trace of his true feelings, "I think you will have to tell us that."

Caesar looked between them incredulously. He thrust a hand into his robe and emerged with a Den-Den Mushi that he hastily activated. "Hello?" the frantic scientist shouted into the Snail-o-Phone. "Hello! Can anyone hear me? This is Caesar! Someone please answer me!"

No response came back. Several people were crowded around them now, and they all watched the distraught weapons developer strive unsuccessfully to reach his colleagues. Everyone was buying into Caesar's emotional performance. Were she not forewarned, Otohime might have also been taken in by his skillful acting. Or perhaps even then, his vicious excitement would have burned her senses like acid. No amount of subterfuge could hide from her Color of Observation haki.

When he continued to be greeted only by static Caesar gave a curse. "Out of my way!" he demanded, shoving through the gang of agents. In moments he had flown across the hall to where a giant Den-Den Mushi was sleeping by a large video screen. With great haste the scientist entered a number, and the snail roused itself.

Everyone had now picked up on something having gone wrong this night. The entire mass of people attending the party soon clustered a respectful distance behind Caesar as he worked the controls. Otohime found herself at the front surrounded by the men in black, who had taken up position to escort her safely through without need to be told. Soon there appeared before them an image of something taking place elsewhere in the city. Otohime found herself greeted by what might be a laboratory replete with beakers, equipment and canisters of all shapes and sizes.

What drew her attention, though, were the bodies.

A few were still moving. In the best case they were down on their knees, convulsing and hacking. Most were reduced to thrashing horribly, even those who had donned protective suits and headgear. Men and women both. They clutched at their throats or pounded desperately on their chests as though to dislodge something stuck inside.

As Otohime watched, one woman tore off her helmet and vomited all over the floor. Not food. It was clear and splattered just like…

Water.

They were choking to death on _water._

Caesar stumbled back a step, aghast. "Oh no," he rasped loud enough to still be heard. "The AL-723… AquaLung… they must have damaged the sealant. Even contaminant suits can't stop it. How horrible… all the water in their bodies is coagulating in their respiratory systems without stop!" He stated this as though in a daze, then turned away with one hand pressed over his eyes. "The lab should have sealed itself at the first sign of danger. No need to fear, there's no risk of the gas spreading. I don't… how could this be _happening?"_

The aggrieved scientist drifted off to one side. To give everyone a better view of the screen, she realized. This was for her benefit. All of it. Even knowing what he was doing, Otohime found herself gliding forward without any means to stop until she stood right where Caesar had previously occupied. The hall had gone silent. Not a sound came from the observers of this tragedy, who stood stunned. Even the Tenryūbito had nothing to say, only nervously demanded their servants adjust the output on their air tanks to free up more.

Inside the lab a man lurched up and fell forward close to whatever Den-Den Mushi was transmitting this scene. Terrified bulging eyes stared out as if he could see them watching him. His mouth opened, jaw quivering as he tried to speak, to beg for help. When nothing came out he grew more panicked.

Otohime found herself reaching forward until her hand touched the screen. His heart… his _soul! _She could feel him, all of them, even from so far away. The agonized terror those scientists were experiencing felt like a volley of cannonballs slamming mercilessly into her. It was pure torture, which her haki let the Sea Queen experience to the utmost. Tears fell down her cheeks in gruesome parody of his tragic struggle.

With another heroic effort the dying man drew on all his reserves of strength and strove to choke out even the slightest sound. But in place of words, water gushed forth like a fountain to come pouring down his chin in waves. As Otohime watched, his eyes rolled up in his skull. Moments later he slid out of sight to join the other freshly made corpses that now littered the laboratory.

While she stood numb with shock a nebulous arm stole around her shoulders in tender mockery of concern. "Please, Your Majesty," that nasty voice crooned, making her flinch. "I pray you, don't linger too long. Your concern is admirable, but there's nothing more to be done for them, poor souls."

Staring into the glass pane, Otohime caught a glimpse of Caesar's reflection in the glass. With his back to the audience, she alone could see that he wore a smile of pure unadulterated triumph.

The ruthless killer then turned away, once more donning his mask of the grief-stricken martyr to be taken in by sympathetic partygoers.

The wife of Neptune kept her fingers firmly attached to the television. That morass of hysterical loss still threatened to swamp her. She was trembling uncontrollably. They were all dead, but the one responsible suffered nothing for it. And why not? Who could oppose him? A Logia, a government scientist, this demented creature who no longer even resembled a human being! What small handful of people in this world were permitted to tell him what he could or could not do? The rest must meekly submit to his atrocities! And here he swanned through these gaudy festivities as though nothing could touch him!

In a swirl of silk Otohime whipped around to go striding towards where Caesar Clown took court among his sycophants. It was all too much! Was there no way to impress upon him what she still suffered through?! Those people, living souls with families and friends and dreams; they died for his sins! Because he put himself above them on account of his genius and Devil Fruit powers! Just to impress _me!_

Caesar turned at her approach. His eyebrows lifted and one corner of his mouth crooked in surprise. What she wouldn't give to be able to slap his rotten stinking face, only she couldn't even reach that high! And what was physical violence to a Logia? Were she blessed with the Color of Armaments or Imperial Haki, Otohime could strike a real blow against him! Yet all she had was Color of Observation, good only for the connecting of hearts. But if she could make him feel even one iota of the pain those dead men and women suffered through, to those last drowned breaths…!

Their silent screams wailed in her ears, their lungs burst inside her breast! Her haki flared to its utmost heights, enough to send people on the periphery of their confrontation staggering back. Without knowing rightly how Queen Otohime took all this dreadful pain that shocked her nerve endings, condensed it all into her fist, and reaching up, she placed her palm against that gaseous chest and _pushed!_

Caesar Clown emitted a scream as though he had been shot. His face contorted in on itself, and he fell back onto his rump, gasping painfully and clutching at his heart with both hands. Tears leaked from those narrowed eyes as his airy cloak splayed around him while snot dribbled from his nose. He looked utterly wretched.

Standing over him, Otohime felt no triumph. What she knew was calm relief. Her body still ached from harboring those deadly emotions, yet she wouldn't have it any other way. With utmost aplomb the Sea Queen looked down upon that humbled figure. Her chin was held high in regal condemnation. Still fighting for breath, the Gas Man struggled to lift his head. Chlorine-colored eyes opened wide and he glared at her with chilling intent. The promise of death was clearly spelled out in those livid features.

Her own face was cold with reproach as she spoke. "You will _never _set foot in my kingdom."

The royal goldfish mermaid said no more. She simply turned and flowed away. Behind her several Marine Vice-Admirals sought to help the shaken scientist rise, but he angrily yanked himself free of their helpful touches. Those stalwart officers intervened between him and the departing monarch when he made a move towards her. Some low words were exchanged. A clearly outraged Caesar Clown cast one last vicious glare in Otohime's direction before he spun around and went stalking into the crowd, passing through the throngs with no more difficulty than a breeze.

A minute later Otohime took her place back on the couch. The marveling way her human companions now looked at her seemed different than before. It was as though she were not simply an exotic breed of animal to their eyes. More like a woman the same as any of them; one whom they respected.

Now more confident than ever, Queen Otohime smiled proudly. "Does anyone have some of that herring I might try?"

A plate was offered to her immediately.

"Thank you."

_**FIN.**_


End file.
